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HORATIO    SEYMOUR. 


TO 

GEORGE    JONES 

OF 
THE  NEW  YORK  TIMES 

A    FAITHFUL   FRIEND,   A   GOOD    CITIZEN,   A   TRUE    MAN; 
MODEST,  INDEPENDENT,   FEARLESS; 

®l)is   Book  is   Dcbicnteb 

WITH    AFFECTION    AND    RESrECT    BY 

HOWARD  CARROLL 


PREFACE. 


A  disposition  to  belittle  and  disparage  public  men  is 
very  properly  held  to  be  a  characteristic  failing  of  the 
Republic.  Yet  we  are  told  that  it  is  not  more  preva- 
lent in  our  American  Union  than  it  was  in  the  com- 
monwealths of  ancient  Greece,  and  that  it  is  not  more 
distinctly  marked  in  the  United  States  of  to-day  than 
it  was  during  the  lifetime  of  the  fathers  of  the  coun- 
try. Whether  it  be  more  justifiable  is  a  question  less 
open  to  discussion  than  whether  there  is  great  danger 
of  its  being  too  freely  indulged  There  is  certainly  no 
necessary  connection  between  the  service  of  the  people 
'and  the  imputation  of  base  motives  to  those  who,  by 
election  or  appointment,  assume  public  responsibilities. 
It  is  equally  certain  that  there  is  nothing  more  mis- 
leading than  to  deal  with  a  human  being,  in  any  of  the 
relations  of  life,  as  a  mere  bundle  of  qualities  attributed 
to  him  by  common  rumor,  and  associated  with  none  of 
the  shades  of  character,  impulse,  and  motive  which  real- 
ly combine  to  make  him  what  he  is.  For,  though  a 
lack  of  acquaintance  with  the  personality  of  men  in 
prominent  public  positions  may  sometimes  lead  to  an 


vi  Preface. 

exaggerated  conception  of  their  greatness,  such  lack  is 
much  more  frequently  associated  with  a  liability  to 
make  too  much  of  their  errors  or  weaknesses. 

The  modern  art  of  caricature  and  the  every -day 
method  of  analyzing  the  individuality  of  public  men 
have  a  great  deal  in  common  ;  with  the  preponder- 
ance of  truthful  delineation  very  much  in  favor  of  the 
former.  Indeed,  every  public  man  in  this  country  is, 
in  one  way  or  another,  subjected  to  so  searching  and 
merciless  an  examination,  obliged  to  stand  so  constantly 
in  the  white  light  of  unlimited  public  criticism,  that 
the  real  wonder  is,  not  that  so  few,  but  that  so  very 
many  of  them,  stand  the  test  and  come  out  of  the 
ordeal  pure,  unsullied,  and  guiltless  of  even  the  suspi- 
cion of  wrong.  A  belief  to  the  contrary,  which  pre- 
vails in  some  directions,  is  as  dangerous  as  it  is  absurd. 
It  has  done  much  and  continues  to  do  much  to  injure 
the  Republic,  by  undermining  that  faith  in  its  institu- 
tions upon  which  their  existence  and  the  Republic's  ex- 
istence so  largely  depends. 

In  these  sketches  of  the  lives  of  twelve  representative 
Americans  there  will  be  found  no  tendency  of  the  sort 
referred  to.  It  has  been  my  aim  to  deal  with  portrait- 
ure rather  than  subtle  analysis,  to  represent  my  subjects 
as  beings  of  flesh  and  blood,  not  as  remote  and  colorless 
abstractions.  Good-fortune  has  permitted  me  to  enjoy 
personal  relations  of  the  most  friendly  character  with 
many  of  the  gentlemen  included  in  the  list,  and  it  is 
particularly  worthy  of  note  that  the  material  for  these 


Preface.  vii 

sketches  of  their  lives  was,  in  every  case,  obtained  dur- 
ing long  and  frequent  personal  interviews  with  them. 
Originally  the  sketches  appeared,  in  comparatively  mea- 
gre outline,  in  the  columns  of  the  New  York  Times. 
As  here  presented  they  have  been  carefully  revised, 
re-written,  and  much  enlarged.  It  cannot  be  claimed 
for  them  that  they  are  cold  and  dispassionate  estimates 
of  character  and  public  service.  It  can  be,  and  is  con- 
fidently claimed,  that  they  are  truthful  and  appreciative 
records  of  most  eventful  careers  ;  that  they  teach  many 
a  wholesome  lesson,  by  laying  bare  the  motives  which 
have  actuated  men  eminent  in  widely  different  walks 
of  life ;  that  they  bring  to  memory  historical  events 
of  great  interest ;  that  they  contain  many  important 
facts,  characteristic  anecdotes,  and  incidents  bearing 
upon  history,  which  hitherto  have  remained  unpub- 
lished— -that  they  throw  new  light  on  movements  of  the 
first  importance  ;  and  that  they  strikingly  illustrate  the 
great  progress  and  growth,  the  astonishing  social  and 
material  development  of  the  Republic,  by  picturing 
with  accuracy  and  all  necessary  minuteness  the  primi- 
tive surroundings  from  which  there  rose  to  distinction 

— "  Twelve  Americans." 

H.  C. 


CONTENTS. 


i. 

"  The  Farmer  Statesman.'1'1 
HORATIO    SEYMOUR. 

The  Long  and  Successful  Career  of  a  Great  Democrat. — His  Recol- 
lections of  Men  and  Politics  a  Generation  Ago. — Reminiscences 
of  Clay,  Webster,  Pierce,  Marcy,  and  Wright. — The  Times  of 
Lincoln  and  Stanton. — Governor  of  New  York. — Nominated  for 
the  Presidency.— Words  of  Wisdom  from  "The  Sage  of  Deer- 
field." — The  Evening  of  a  Good  Man's  Life    ....    Page  1 

II. 

A  Descendant  of  Presidents. 
CHARLES    FRANCIS    ADAMS. 

In  the  White  House  Long  Ago. — What  Lafayette  Feared. — "The 
Etiquette  War." — A  Leader  of  the  Free -soil  Party. — Events 
which  Led  to  Emancipation. — The  Model  Minister  to  England. 
— A  Studious  Gentleman  at  Home. — The  Distinguished  Scion 
of  an  Ancient  House 49 

III. 

The  People's  Friend. 

PETER    COOPER. 

From  Poverty  to  Great  Riches. — The  Work  of  a  Child,  a  Boy,  and 
a  Man. — New  York  in  the  Olden  Time. — The  Volunteer  Fire 
Department. — Building  the  Cooper  Institute. — Two  Continents 
Connected.— A  Long  Life  Well  Spent 77 


x  Contents. 

IV. 

He  Served  the  State. 
HANNIBAL    HAMLIN. 

A  Noteworthy  Chapter  in  American  History. — Half  a  Century  in 
Active  Public  Service.  —  The  Early  Antislavery  Discussion. — 
"Defeated  by  a  Hair." — Leaving  a  Dishonored  Party. — With 
Lincoln. — Before  the  War  and  After. — Vice-President  and  United 
States  Senator. — An  Important  Interview. — Anecdotes,  Incidents, 
and  Interesting  Scenes. — A  Man  not  to  be  Replaced   .    Page  117 

V. 

For  Fifty  Years  an  Actor. 
JOHN     GILBERT. 

From  a  Dry  Goods  Counter  to  the  Theatre. — A  Debut  in  the 
Olden  Time.— The  Trials  of  a  Beginner.— A  "First  Old  Man" 
at  Twenty-five. — "Roughing  It"  in  the  West. — A  London  En- 
gagement.—  Playing  English  Comedy  in  England.  —  Twenty 
Years  in  New  York.  —  Plays  and  Players  of  the  Past  and 
Present.— Wallack's  Theatre 1G9 

VI. 

The  Recollections  of  a  Veteran. 

ROBERT    C.    SCHENCK. 

Ohio  in  the  Olden  Time. — A  Brave  Boy. — Practising  Law  under 
Difficulty. —  A  Court  in  the  Woods. — Western  Politics  in  the 
Days  gone  by. — Hot  Debates  and  Legislative  Contests. —  Odd 
Anecdotes  of  Distinguished  Men. —  On  the  Battle-field.  —  In 
Congress  during  the  Rebellion. — Later  Service. — A  Strong  Man 
and  True 219 

VII. 

Through  Slavery  to  Fame. 

FREDERICK    DOUGLASS. 

A  Strange  Career. — Reality  More  Startling  than  Romance. — Vivid 
Pictures  of  Slave  Life. — A  Maryland  Plantation. — The  Escape 


Contents.  xi 

to  New  England. — How  Runaway  Negroes  were  Treated  in  "the 
Free  North." — John  Brown's  Plot,  and  its  Result. — A  Midnight 
Interview. —  In  England  and  Ireland. — After  the  War. — High 
Place  in  "the  New  Republic" Page  263 

VIII. 

An  Old-time  Democrat. 
"WILLIAM    ALLEN. 

In  the  Ancient  Town  of  Lynchburg.  —  The  Small  Boy  who 
Peeped  at  Jefferson  and  Jackson. — A  New  Home  in  the  West. 
— Political  Tricks  of  "the  Fathers." — Across  the  Scioto. — A 
Memorable  Contest  for  Congress. — The  Last  of  a  President. — 
United  States  Senator  and  Governor. — The  Father  of  a  Political 
Sect 301 

IX. 

"  The  Senator  from  Ohio.'''1 
ALLEN    G-.   THURMAN. 

Noteworthy  Incidents  in  a  Remarkable  Career. — An  Agreeable 
Teacher. — Learning  to  Speak  French  and  Take  Snuff. — A  Visit 
to  Calhoun. — High  Rank  at  the  Bar. — An  Unsought  Office. — In 
the  United  States  Senate. — Thurman  and  Edmunds. — An  Inci- 
dent.—The  Work  of  an  Honest  Man 331 

X. 

A  Lifetime  on  the  Stage. 
JOSEPH    JEFFERSON. 

The  Third  of  the  Name  and  Fourth  in  Line. — A  Family  of  Players. 
— From  England  to  America. — Anecdotes  of  Great  Actors. — A 
Remarkable  Character. — Hard  Work  the  Foundation  of  Fortune. 
— Burke,  Burton,  "The  Elder  Booth,"  Forrest,  Edwin  Adams, 
Lawrence  Barrett,  and  John  McCullough. — Acting  in  Australia, 
England,  and  America. — "Rip  Van  Winkle." — The   Secret  of 

Success. — Sound  Views  Well  Expressed 355 

1* 


xii  Contents. 

XI. 

"  The  Watch-dog  of  the  Treasury:' 
ELIHU    B.   WASHBURNE. 

Hard  Work  and  Great  Success. — The  Fortunes  of  a  New  England 
Boy. — Farm -hand,  Printer's  "Devil,"  School  -  master,  Lawyer, 
Politician,  Statesman,  Diplomate ;  the  Associate  of  Presidents, 
Kings,  and  Princes. — In  Washington  and  Paris. — Eminent  Ser- 
vice at  Home  and  Abroad. — From  Bismarck  and  the  German 
Emperor. — A  Private  Citizen  of  the  United  States  .     .    Page  395 

XII. 

A  Man  of  the  South. 

ALEXANDER    H.    STEPHENS. 

The  Story  of  a  Busy  Life. — From  Log  Hut  to  Legislative  Hall. — 
Recollections  of  Old  Georgia. — Sad  Incidents  in  a  Wonderful 
Career. — A  Great  Man's  Secret. — Fighting  against  Sickness,  Pain, 
and  Sorrow. — The  Result. — A  National  Law-maker. — "I  go  with 
my  State." — Vice-President  of  "the  Confederacy." — In  Congress 
and  the  Governor's  Chair. — A  Good,  True  Heart. — "In  Memo- 
riam."— The  End    . .429 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Horatio  Seymour Frontispiece 

Charles  Francis  Adams faces  p.    49 

Peter  Cooper  

Hannibal  Hamlin 

John  Gilbert 

Robert  C.  Sciienck 

Frederick  Douglass 

William  Allen 

Allen  G.  Thurman 

Joseph  Jefferson 

Eliiiu  B.  Washburne 

Alexander  H.  Stephens  


77 
117 
169 
219 
263 
301 
331 
355 
395 
429 


"The  Farmer  Statesman." 


HORATIO   SEYMOUR. 


BORN  IN  THE   WILDERNESS. 

Seventy  and  odd  years  ago  Central  New  York  was  little 
better  than  a  wilderness.  It  is  true  that  here  and  there  upon 
the  hill-tops  a  clearing  had  been  cut,  and  hardy  settlers  from 
New  England,  braving  many  dangers,  literally  fighting  with 
wild  beasts  for  possession  of  the  soil,  had  made  for  themselves 
primitive  homes.  But  where  great  cities  now  stand  giant 
forest-trees  then  towered ;  roads  were  almost  unknown ;  and 
the  valleys  were  in  places  untrodden  jungles.  Pompey,  a 
hamlet  of  a  few  hundred  inhabitants,  established  on  an  eleva- 
tion overlooking  an  unsightly  swamp  —  now  the  flourishing 
city  of  Syracuse — was  the  principal  place  in  Onondaga  County. 
In  it,  on  a  May  morning  in  the  year  1810,  surrounded  by  path- 
less wilds,  shut  out  from  the  civilized  settlements  of  the  East 
and  of  the  Atlantic  coast,  deep  in  the  backwoods,  was  born 
Horatio  Seymoui',  who  has  since  been  the  foremost  leader  of 
a  great  political  party,  who  is  to-day  even  in  his  retirement 
one  of  the  most  distinguished  men  in  the  greatest  Republic 
on  earth.  It  has  been  his  lot  to  watch  the  retreating  foot- 
steps of  savage  tribes,  to  witness  the  first  steps  and  the  high- 
est achievements  of  an  advanced  civilization. 

The  conditions  under  which  his  early  life  was  passed  were 
indeed  remarkable  ones.     The  people  of  his  native  village,  like 

1 


2  Twelve  Americans. 

those  of  every  other  community  then  established  in  Central 
New  York,  were  poor — constantly  engaged  in  a  struggle  to 
gain  food  and  clothing.  At  the  same  time,  however,  they 
were  contented  and  hopeful.  They  were  inspired  by  kindly 
sympathies  which  sprang  from  common  wants.  All  inter- 
course was  upon  a  level.  No  man  envied  his  neighbor,  for 
nowhere  did  the  glare  of  wealth  put  poverty  to  shame.  Com- 
ing, as  most  of  them  did,  from  the  old  and,  to  a  certain  ex- 
tent, cultured  settlements  of  Massachusetts  and  Connecticut, 
one  of  their  first  cares  was  to  provide  schools  for  their  chil- 
dren. To  this  end  no  effort  was  spared,  and  Mr.  Seymour 
relates,  as  within  his  own  recollection,  the  fact  that  some  of 
the  men  of  Pompey  put  mortgages  upon  their  lands  that 
proper  institutions  of  learning  might  be  furnished  for  the  boys 
and  girls  of  the  settlement.  To  erect  churches  they  made 
equal  sacrifices,  and,  when  all  other  means  failed,  it  is  mat- 
ter of  record  that,  in  order  to  attract  a  crowd  of  hardy  back- 
woodsmen to  aid  in  lifting  up  the  framework  of  one  of  their 
places  of  worship,  they  announced  that  when  the  steeple  had 
been  so  erected  an  adventurous  youth,  who  had  more  love  for 
the  cause  than  regard  for  his  neck,  would  stand  upon  his  head 
on  its  topmost  point.  So,  too,  when  the  pews  were  sold  the 
deacons  placed  upon  the  pulpit  stairs  a  bucket  of  rum-punch, 
to  make  more  liberal  the  spirits  of  the  bidders  for  seats. 

It  has,  with  much  truth,  been  said  that  those  were  "  the 
days  of  vital  piety,  sound  Democracy,  and  pure  liquor."  They 
were,  at  least,  days  in  which  men  of  all  occupations,  classes, 
and  conditions  mingled  together  with  the  utmost  freedom. 
The  village  inn  was  then  the  chief  place  of  public  resort,  and 
in  its  ample  room,  warmed  by  a  great  fire  of  blazing  logs, 
farm  laborers  and  lawyers,  doctors  and  shop-keepers,  clergy- 
men and  publicans,  met  upon  an  equal  footing,  to  talk  over 
the  affairs  of  their  district,  of  the  State,  and  the  nation.  Such 
discussions  were  open  to  every  one  who  cared  to  take  part  id 


"The  Farmer  Statesman."  3 

them.  Men  of  all  parties  then  heard  both  sides  of  questions 
which  agitated  the  public  mind.  They  learned  to  temper 
their  prejudices,  correct  their  opinions ;  and  ministers  of  the 
Gospel,  lawyers,  and  politicians,  knowing  more  of  human  nat- 
ure than  do  their  fellows  of  to-day,  gained  greater  personal 
followings,  and  knew  better  how  to  retain  the  regard  of  their 
constituents.  It  was  in  those  old  days,  and  under  the  condi- 
tions described,  that  Horatio  Seymour  was  born  and  passed 
his  early  childhood.  His  father,  Henry  Seymour,  afterward 
an  honored  public  servant  of  the  Empire  State,  was  then  one 
of  the  men  of  most  consequence  in  the  village  of  Pompey  ;  but 
at  a  time  when  men  of  all  classes  were  at  a  moment's  notice 
called  upon  to  protect  each  other  from  the  attack  of  some  ad- 
venturous bear  or  wolf — as  the  early  settlers  of  Central  New 
York  were  more  than  once  obliged  to  do — exclusiveness  was 
not  one  of  the  marks  of  distinction.  Young  Seymour  was 
taught,  when  in  his  infancy,  that  no  man  in  this  country  is 
born  better  than  another ;  that  the  most  exalted  in  the  land,  if 
they  will  take  the  trouble,  can  learn  many  a  useful  lesson  from 
the  humblest.  He  never  in  after-life  forgot  these  truths ;  and 
to  his  remembrance  of  them,  as  well  as  to  other  impressions 
which  he  received  in  the  home  of  his  infancy,  he  may  well  at- 
tribute much  of  the  popularity  which,  in  the  years  that  fol- 
lowed, made  him  a  leader  of  the  American  people. 

Among  the  many  stories  which  have  been  told  in  regard  to 
the  youth  of  Horatio  Seymour  is  one  to  the  effect  that  at  a 
remarkably  early  age  he  developed  a  decided  taste  for  study, 
and,  while  yet  in  his  infancy,  distanced  all  his  school  competi- 
tors. This  is  very  far  from  being  the  truth.  The  fact  is  that 
he  was  weak  and  sickly  in  his  childhood,  and  for  a  time  was 
not  nearly  so  advanced  in  his  studies  as  were  other  boys  of  the 
same  age.  At  all  times,  however,  he  was  a  close,  keen  observer 
of  what  was  going  on  about  him  ;  and  what  he  may  have  lacked 
in  book-knowledge  was,  perhaps,  more  than  made  good  by  a 


4  Twelve  Americans. 

varied  store  of  information,  picked  up  at  odd  times,  at  random 
and  without  effort.  As  is  often  the  case  with  men  who,  spring- 
ing from  the  people,  have  had  marked  success  in  life,  he  re- 
ceived his  first  lessons  from  his  mother,  the  daughter  of  Jona- 
than Forman,  a  soldier  of  the  Revolution.  Under  her  watchful 
care  he  was — with  some  difficulty,  it  must  be  confessed — ini- 
tiated into  the  mysteries  of  spelling-books  and  primers.  He 
still  cherishes  the  memory  of  her  patience  and  devotion,  fully 
believing  that  to  these  he  owes  much  of  the  prosperity  and 
happiness  which  have  fallen  to  his  lot. 

"When  the  boy  was  about  eight  years  of  age  his  father,  who 
had  meanwhile  acquired  some  property,  moved  from  Pompey  to 
the  growing  town  of  Utica.  A  year  or  two  afterward  he  was 
sent  to  the  Oxford  Academy,  a  famous  institution  in  those 
days,  and  from  there  went  to  Geneva  (now  Hobart)  College. 
During  all  this  time,  however,  he  continued  to  be  weak  and 
delicate ;  and  in  his  fifteenth  year,  hoping  that  the  drill  of 
the  institution  might  be  of  benefit  to  him,  his  father  sent  him 
to  a  military  school  at  Middletown,  Conn.,  which  was  conduct- 
ed on  the  West  Point  principle,  and  attended  by  the  sons  of 
distinguished  men  from  all  parts  of  the  Union.  Here  he 
daily  gained  strength  and  health,  studied  hard,  improved  rap- 
idly, and  made  many  friends  among  young  men  who  were  des- 
tined in  after-life  to  take  a  prominent  part  in  the  affairs  of  the 
country. 

When  he  was  sixteen  years  of  age,  and  had  passed  two 
years  in  the  Middletown  Academy,  its  managers,  one  of  whom 
was  an  officer  in  the  United  States  army,  decided  to  take  the 
students  upon  a  trip  to  Washington.  This  they  did  for  the 
twofold  purpose  of  giving  the  young  men  a  season  of  recrea- 
tion, and  at  the  same  time  making  them  acquainted  with  the 
leading  men  of  the  country.  Young  Seymour,  with  the  rest, 
reached  Baltimore  without  any  adventure  of  note ;  but  at  that 
place  he,  Thomas  H.  Seymour  (his  cousiu,  who  afterward  be- 


"The  Farmer  Statesman?'  5 

came  Governor  of  Connecticut),  and  Isaac  Morse  (subsequent- 
ly the  Attorney-general  of  Louisiana,  and  a  representative  in 
Congress  from  that  State),  strayed  off  from  their  companions. 
Coming  from  the  country  as  they  did,  everything  in  the  great 
city  was  new  to  them.  They  wandered  about  aimlessly,  being 
greatly  interested  took  no  note  of  time,  and,  when  they  re- 
turned to  their  hotel,  were  much  astonished  to  find  that  their 
fellow  -  students  had  left  for  Washington  two  hours  before ! 
The  stage,  which  in  those  days  was  the  only  regular  means  of 
communication  between  Washington  and  Baltimore,  had  also 
departed,  and  they  were  not  sufficiently  supplied  with  money  to 
think  of  hiring  a  private  conveyance.  There  was  no  help  for 
it — they  would  have  to  walk  to  the  capital.  Quickly  coining 
to  this  decision,  they  strapped  on  their  knapsacks,  shouldered 
their  muskets — it  will  be  remembered  that  they  were  dressed 
in  the  uniform  of  the  Academy — and  set  out  on  their  lonely 
tramp.  They  walked  all  night,  and  just  as  day  was  break- 
ing entered  Washington,  and  shortly  afterward  rejoined  their 
corps. 

The  capital,  as  it  then  appeared,  was,  according  to  Mr.  Sey- 
mour's recollection,  an  unsightly  and  badly-built  settlement  of 
seven  or  eight  thousand  inhabitants.  The  streets  were  un- 
paved  and  muddy ;  and  Pennsylvania  Avenue,  now  the  pride 
of  the  city,  was  divided  into  two  carriage-ways  by  four  lines 
of  poplar-trees,  which  extended  from  the  President's  mansion 
to  Capitol  Hill.  The  White  House  itself  was  not  yet  finished, 
the  great  East  Room,  in  which  public  receptions  are  now  held, 
being  then  used  by  the  President's  laundress  to  dry  clothes  in. 
Aside  from  the  public  buildings  there  were  but  few  houses  of 
respectable  dimensions  in  the  place ;  and  most  of  the  Senators 
and  Representatives  lived  in  rooms  over  the  stores  on  Pennsyl- 
vania Avenue  and  adjacent  streets. 

As  may  well  be  imagined,  the  company  of  well-drilled  and 
trim  cadets  to  which  young  Seymour  was  attached  created  no 


6  Twelve  Americans. 

little  excitement  in  this  Washington  of  the  olden  time.  The 
young  men  who  were  members  of  the  corps  came  from  all 
parts  of  the  country ;  many  of  them  had  fathers,  uncles,  or 
other  relatives  in  Congress ;  and  they  had  not  been  many 
hours  in  the  city  before  it  was  arranged  that  they  should  be 
publicly  received  by  the  President,  John  Quincy  Adams,  and 
his  Cabinet,  and  that  afterward  they  should  visit  the  Senate 
Chamber,  the  House  of  Representatives,  and  the  various  de- 
partments of  the  Government.  Young  Seymour — whose  un- 
cle, Horatio  Seymour,  after  whom  he  was  named,  was  then 
one  of  the  Senators  from  Vermont — had  peculiarly  good  op- 
portunities of  seeing  and  talking  with  all  the  great  men  of  the 
day  ;  and  he  still  retains  the  liveliest  recollections  of  his  first 
visit  to  the  capital.  Henry  Clay,  with  whom  he  had  a  num- 
ber of  short  conversations,  he  describes  as  having  been  "  tall  in 
stature,  graceful  in  action,  and  most  winning  in  speech."  The 
great  Whig  was  particularly  attentive  to  the  cadets,  and  to  the 
best  advantage  displayed  one  of  his  marked  characteristics  by 
recalling  the  name  and  inquiring  after  the  welfare  of  some  rel- 
ative or  friend  of  each  of  the  many  young  men  to  whom  he 
spoke.  His  manner  was  in  marked  contrast  to  the  cold,  criti- 
cal, and  somewhat  haughty  demeanor  of  President  Adams, 
who,  when  the  cadets  visited  him,  was  formal  and  stiff  almost 
to  statuesqueness.  Later  in  life,  however,  Mr.  Seymour  found 
him,  our  of  the  Presidential  chair,  in  a  very  different  mood — 
full  of  humor  and  anecdote,  and  as  genial  and  sympathetic  as 
could  be  desired. 

Calhoun — who,  like  Clay,  impressed  the  students  most  for- 
ciblv — was,  as  Mr.  Seymour  remembers  him,  tall  and  command- 
ing in  figure,  very  erect  in  his  bearing,  and  in  appearance  coldly 
dignified.  In  manner  and  address,  however,  he  was  usually  so 
simple,  affable,  and  unassuming  as  to  win  the  sincere  regard  of 
all  with  whom  he  came  in  contact.  In  conversation  he  prac- 
tised none  of  those  arts  which  so-called  great  men  of  the  pres- 


"The  Fanner  Statesman, ."  7 

ent  clay  bring  into  requisition  to  give  the  world  a  greater  idea 
of  their  importance.  He  was  frank  and  open  almost  to  a  fault, 
talked  fully  and  freely  to  the  humblest  of  men  upon  topics  of 
the  utmost  state  importance,  and  even  seemed  anxious  to  as- 
certain and  listen  to  the  opinions  of  young  Seymour  and  his 
school-mates. 

Still  another  of  the  distinguished  men  of  the  day  pointed 
out  to  the  cadets  was  John  Randolph,  of  Virginia.  He  was  a 
remarkable  figure  in  the  old  Senate  Chamber.  Thin,  pale,  and 
delicate,  greatly  resembling  Alexander  H.  Stephens,  of  Georgia, 
though  without  that  gentleman's  bodily  infirmities,  he  added 
to  the  singularity  of  his  appearance  by  wearing  tightly-fitting 
small-clothes,  top-boots,  spurs,  and  a  long  queue.  Of  course 
the  boys  stared  at  him,  and  he  seemed  to  be  exceedingly  an- 
noyed in  consequence. 

Daniel  Webster,  whom  Mr.  Seymour  also  saw  and  heard 
during  his  stay  in  the  capital,  he  remembers  chiefly  as  being, 
to  use  his  own  words,  the  possessor  of  "  a  voice  of  great  power 
and  depth — a  voice  full  of  magnetism,  a  voice  such  as  is  heard 
only  once  in  a  lifetime." 

Greatly  as  that  voice  impressed  him,  however,  it  fell  far 
short  of  producing  the  effect  upon  his  young  and  impressi- 
ble imagination  which  was  at  this  time  occasioned  by  a  visit 
which  he- and  the  other  cadets  made  to  Mount  Vernon  and 
the  grave  of  Washington.  While  there  he  witnessed  the  re- 
moval of  the  great  man's  remains  from  the  tomb  in  which 
they  were  first  interred,  to  their  present  resting-place.  He  was 
allowed  to  lay  his  hands  upon  the  coffin ;  and  to-day,  old  and 
full  of  honors  though  he  be,  he  speaks  earnestly,  almost  rever- 
ently, of  that  occurrence  as  one  of  the  greatest  events  of  his 
life. 

Some  years  after  these  school -boy  experiences  Mr.  Sey- 
mour again  visited  Baltimore  and  Washington,  going  in  com- 
pany with  his  father,  who  was  a  delegate  to  the  National  Con- 


8  Twelve  Americans. 

vention,  which  was  held  in  the  former  city  and  nominated 
Jackson  for  the  second  time.  In  those  days — whether  because 
of  a  lack  of  interest,  or  the  many  difficulties  which  travellers 
were  obliged  to  encounter,  need  not  be  discussed  —  political 
meetings,  even  those  of  national  importance,  attracted  nothing 
like  the  attendance  and  attention  which  they  now  receive. 
The  Baltimore  Convention  in  question  was  held  in  a  church 
of  ordinary  size,  which  was  not  more  than  half  filled  by  dele- 
gates and  spectators.  A  day  or  two  before  it  came  together  a 
warehouse  belonging  to  Phelps,  Dodge  k  Co.,  even  then  an 
extensive  firm,  had  fallen  in,  killing  and  wounding  several  per- 
sons ;  and  it  is  possible  that  fears  of  a  similar  accident  pre- 
vented many  from  attending  the  convention.  At  all  events, 
Mr.  Seymour  remembers  that  the  audience  was  a  very  small 
one,  and  that  among  the  delegates  there  was  quite  as  much 
talk  about  falling  walls  and  broken  bones  as  there  was  regard- 
ing politics  and  the  success  of  the  Democratic  Party.  In 
short,  the  people  in  the  church  were  filled  with  vague  fears  of 
they  knew  not  what,  and  were  ready  at  a  moment's  notice  to 
lose  their  wits  from  fright.  They  soon  had  the  opportunity. 
Suddenly,  in  the  midst  of  the  proceedings,  one  of  the  beams 
which  supported  the  roof  of  the  building  was  heard  to  crack  ! 
At  the  same  moment  two  or  three  pieces  of  plaster  fell  to  the 
floor  with  a  crash. 

"  The  church  is  falling  in!"'  some  unduly  excited  person 
shouted,  and  at  once  there  was  a  panic  and  a  wild  rush  to 
the  doors.  Of  course,  those  so-called  means  of  exit  opened 
toward  the  interior  —  it  will  be  noticed  that  on  such  occa- 
sions they  always  do  —  and  young  Seymour,  carried  along 
with  the  crowd,  was  violently  thrown  against  a  panel  which 
had  been  closed  by  the  first  crush,  and  narrowly  escaped  seri- 
ous injury.  As  good  fortune  would  have  it,  however,  all  the 
delegates  and  their  friends  made  their  way  out  of  the  building 
with  whole  bones.     Then,  finding  that  there  was  no  danger, 


"The  Farmer  Statesman."  9 

they  went  back  to  the  business  for  which  they  had  assembled, 
and,  as  has  been  stated,  the  convention  resulted  in  the  renomi- 
nation  of  President  Jackson. 

Henry  Seymour,  Horatio's  father,  was  at  this  time  one  of 
the  powerful  company  of  New  York  politicians  known  as 
"  the  x^lbany  Regency,"  and  it  was  due  in  great  measure  to 
their  efforts  that  Jackson  had  been  successful.  In  recognition 
of  their  services,  the  President,  when  they  went  to  Washing- 
ton, invited  them  to  dine  with  him.  Young  Seymour  went 
with  the  rest,  and,  as  was  perhaps  only  natural,  expected  to  be 
present  at  an  entertainment  of  more  than  ordinary  brilliancy. 
In  this  he  was  disappointed.  Jackson  had  no  taste  for  bril- 
liant entertainments,  and  on  the  occasion  in  question  had 
simply  invited  a  few  gentlemen  to  an  informal  dinner,  made 
up  of  the  very  plainest  fare.  The  company  was  decidedly 
a  mixed  one.  It  comprised  eight  persons,  most  conspicuous 
among  whom  were  Jackson  himself  and,  seated  directly  op- 
posite him,  "  Nick  "  Biddle,  the  President  of  the  Bank  of  the 
United  States.  Every  one  present  knew  that  the  war  on  the 
bank,  which  had  then  for  some  time  been  contemplated  by 
the  Administration,  must  soon  be  commenced,  and  would 
doubtless  result  in  the  complete  overthrow  of  Biddle  and  his 
friends.  Under  the  circumstances  it  was  a  matter  of  some 
remark,  not  only  that  Jackson  had  invited  that  gentleman,  but 
that  he  treated  him  with  marked  courtesy — a  courtesy  which 
was  returned  with  interest.  "  Old  man  Creamer,"  a  noted 
politician  of  the  day,  a  most  enthusiastic  supporter  of  Jack- 
son, and  who,  by  reason  of  his  round  face,  fiery-red  hair,  and 
a  coat  badly  torn  under  the  arm,  cut  quite  a  figure  at  the 
table,  did  not  seem  either  to  understand  or  relish  this  mutual 
politeness.  Several  times  during  the  dinner  it  was  evident 
that  he  was  on  the  point  of  making  some  remark  offensive  to 
Biddle.  He  was  always  restrained  by  a  quick  glance  from 
the  keen  eve  of  the  President,  however,  and  the  company  sep- 

1* 


io  Twelve  Americans. 

arated  on  the  best  of  terms.  Soon  afterward  it  was  evident 
that  if  Jackson's  marked  attention  to  Mr.  Biddle  had  any  sig- 
nificance, it  at  least  could  not  be  taken  as  an  indication  that 
the  attack  on  the  United  States  Bank  was  to  be  abandoned. 
The  President's  financial  policy  was  continued,  and  in  the 
end,  as  need  hardly  be  stated,  it  resulted  in  breaking  down 
the  bank. 

II. 

ENTERING  PUBLIC  LIFE.—"  THE  BARNBURNER-HUNKER  WAR." 

"When  Horatio  Seymour  left  the  military  academy  at  Mid- 
dletown  he  had  completely  recovered  from  the  debility  of  his 
childhood.  Strong  in  body,  and  with  a  mind  well  stored  with 
much  useful  knowledge,  he  returned  to  Utica,  and,  entering 
the  office  of  Green  C.  Bronson  and  Samuel  Beardsley,  com- 
menced to  study  law.  In  due  course  he  was  admitted  to  the 
Bar.  At  about  the  same  time,  however,  he  married  Miss 
Mary  Bleecker,  of  Albany,  a  young  lady  of  many  accomplish- 
ments, a  descendant  of  one  of  the  oldest  and  wealthiest  fami- 
lies in  New  York;  and,  being  charged  with  the  management 
of  her  large  estate  in  addition  to  his  own,  he  never  entered 
actively  upon  the  practice  of  his  profession. 

At  a  time  when  every  lawyer  was  a  politician,  however,  and 
when  politics  «ind  religion  were  almost  the  only  resources  of 
country  life,  it  was  hardly  to  be  expected  that  a  young  man  of 
Mr.  Seymour's  antecedents,  education,  and  surroundings  could 
long  keep  aloof  from  affairs  of  state.  His  early  visits  to  "Wash- 
ington had,  to  a  certain  extent,  made  him  familiar  with  the  pub- 
lic men  and  methods  of  the  day ;  his  association  with  Messrs. 
Bronson  and  Beardsley,  both  of  whom  took  high  rank  as  party 
leaders,  and  who  subsequently  each  held  the  highest  judicial 
position  in  the  Commonwealth ;  the  precept  and  example  of 
his  distinguished  father  and  uncle,  together  with  his  own  in- 
clination, conspired  to  lead  him  into  public  life.     Having  the 


" The  Farmer  Statesman"  1 1 

desire,  the  way  was  soon  open  to  him.  He  was  introduced  to 
William  L.  Marcy,  then  Governor  of  New  York,  and  was  soon 
afterward  made  one  of  his  staff;  in  time  he  became  the  con- 
fidential friend  of  that  great  man,  and  he  has  ever  since  played 
a  prominent  part  and  taken  the  deepest  interest  in  the  govern- 
ment of  the  State  and  nation. 

While  with  Governor  Marcy  he  had  every  opportunity  of 
becoming  thoroughly  familiar  with  the  routine  of  legislative 
bodies,  and  in  the  Assembly  of  1842 — to  which  he  was  elected 
by  the  Democrats  of  Oneida — he  was,  because  of  this  experi- 
ence, able,  without  the  usual  preliminary  training,  to  take  a 
prominent  position.  And  in  that  year  the  Legislature  of  New 
York  was  a  body  in  which  no  man  of  ordinary  ability  could 
hope  to  attain  such  a  place.  Michael  Hoffman,  Sanford  E. 
Church,  John  A.  Dix,  David  R.  Floyd-Jones,  George  R.  Davis, 
Lemuel  Stetson,  and  Calvin  T.  Hulburd  were  among  the  lead- 
ers, and  many  legislators  of  no  mean  ability  were  content  to 
be  their  followers.  Among  such  a  company  it  was  a  matter 
of  surprise,  even  to  his  friends,  that  Horatio  Seymour  should 
from  the  first  take  a  leading  place,  but  that  he  did  so  there 
can  be  no  doubt.  Judge  Hammond,  in  his  "  Life  and  Times 
of  Silas  Wright,"  referring  to  "  the  new  member  from  Oneida," 
says :  "  We  have  seldom  known  a  man  who  possessed  higher 
and  better  qualifications  for  usefulness  and  success  in  a  popu- 
lar government  than  Horatio  Seymour.  Kind  and  social  by 
nature,  affable  in  his  deportment,  possessing  a  shrewd,  dis- 
cerning mind,  fluent,  and  at  times  eloquent  in  debate,  enlarged 
in  his  views,  fascinating  in  his  address,  no  man  seemed  better 
calculated  to  acquire  an  influence  in  a  legislative  body  than  he, 
and  few  men  at  his  time  of  life  have,  in  fact,  acquired  a  bet- 
ter standing  or  more  substantial  moral  power.  lie  had  early 
in  life  made  himself  well  acquainted  with  the  great  and  varied 
interests  of  the  State  of  New  York,  an  acquisition  which  aided 
him  much  in  debate  and  gave  him  an  advantage  over  older 


12  Twelve  Americans. 

members,  and  which,  at  the  same  time,  enabled  him  to  render 
services  in  legislation  highly  useful  and  beneficial  to  the  State." 
A  reference  to  the  speeches  of  Mr.  Seymour  during  the  mem- 
orable session  of  1842,  particularly  to  his  addresses  in  regard 
to  Michael  Hoffman's  famous  bill  for  restoring  the  financial 
credit  of  the  State,  by  which,  for  the  first  time  in  its  history, 
a  tax  for  the  support  of  the  Government  was  levied  directly 
upon  the  people,  will  show  that  the  young  legislator  deserved 
all  the  praise  which  Judge  Hammond  awarded  him. 

Returning  to  Utica  after  his  first  session  in  the  Assembly, 
Mr.  Seymour  was  elected  mayor  of  that  city,  defeating  the 
Whig  candidate  by  an  unusually  large  majority.  The  next 
winter  he  was  again  chosen  to  the  Legislature,  and  continued 
to  serve  in  that  body  until  the  spring  of  1  845.  This  period 
was  one  of  the  most  important  and  exciting  in  the  political 
history  of  the  State.  Governor  Bouck's  administration  had 
met  with  much  opposition  in  the  Legislature ;  and,  as  the 
event  proved,  the  bitter  debates  which  grew  out  of  this  oppo- 
sition led  to  disorganization  and  discord,  and  at  last  to  Demo- 
cratic defeat.  Horatio  Seymour  was  one  of  the  few  men  who 
properly  understood  the  situation,  and  he  never  lost  an  oppor- 
tunity of  counselling  his  party  friends  to  be  moderate  in  their 
utterances  and  conciliatory  toward  their  associates.  But  his 
warning  was  not  heeded.  Indeed,  there  was  more  than  one 
old  politician  who  laughed  at  him,  as  an  alarmist ;  and,  for  the 
moment,  it  must  be  confessed  that  the  casual  observer  of  po- 
litical events  could  see  no  reason  for  the  fears  which  he  en- 
tertained. 

Never  in  its  history  had  the  Democratic  organization 
achieved  a  greater  victory  than  that  which  crowned  its  ef- 
forts in  1844.  Both  the  great  parties  had  put  forth  their 
utmost  strength ;  the  excitement  had  been  intense ;  and  the 
result,  a  decisive,  a  bitter,  and  humiliating  defeat  for  the 
Whio-s.     In  the  State  of  New  York,  as  well  as  in  the  nation, 


"The  Fanner  Statesman."  13 

their  chosen  leaders  had  been  buried  out  of  sight  by  the  ma- 
jorities given  to  their  opponents.  Silas  Wright,  the  Demo- 
crat, had  been  elected  Governor  over  Fillmore,  their  strongest 
man ;  and  "  Harry  "  Clay,  the  greatest  Whig  of  all,  the  hero 
of  his  party,  the  idol  of  his  personal  followers,  had  been  de- 
feated for  the  Presidency  by  James  K.  Polk,  whom  nobody 
knew.  To  talk  of  Democratic  discord  after  such  a  victory 
seemed  to  be  little  short  of  madness ;  yet  Mr.  Seymour — with 
wonderful  foresight  anticipating  what,  in  the  light  of  later 
events,  may  be  called  the  inevitable  result  of  the  "  Barnburn- 
er and  Hunker"  war,  just  then  springing  up  —  continued  to 
preach  harmony  and  unity. 

It  was  under  these  circumstances  that  the  legislative  session 
of  1845  opened  at  Albany.  The  Democrats  were  largely  in 
the  majority,  but  Horatio  Seymour  was  the  only  Democratic 
member  of  the  Assembly  who  had  filled  the  same  position  in 
the  preceding  year.  He  was  recognized  as  a  man  of  the  great- 
est experience  and  ability;  and  the  "Hunker"  wing  of  the 
party,  to  which  he  had  become  attached,  named  him  as  a  can- 
didate for  Speaker.  The  "Barnburners"  supported  Colonel 
Crain,  of  Herkimer;  and  the  contest  which  followed  is  still 
remembered  by  old  habitues  of  the  State  Capitol  as  one  of 
the  most  exciting  which  ever  occurred  there.  There  can  be 
no  doubt  that  Mr.  Seymour,  seeing  as  he  did  the  evil  results 
which  must  follow  to  his  party,  sincerely  deplored  the  bitter- 
ness and  intensity  of  the  struggle ;  and  it  is  a  matter  of  record 
that,  in  the  interest  of  harmony,  he  made  several  efforts  to 
withdraw  his  name.  This,  however,  he  could  not  do.  His 
friends  insisted  that  he  must  go  on  with  the  canvass ;  and, 
making  up  his  mind  that  his  political  future  depended  upon 
his  success,  he  went  into  the  contest  with  all  the  great  energy 
of  which  he  was  capable.  Distinguished  men  from  all  parts 
of  the  State  went  "to  Albany  to  take  sides  for  or  against  him. 
The  Federal  office-holders  did  their  utmost  for  him,  while  near- 


14  Twelve  Americans. 

ly  every  prominent  employe  of  the  Canal  Board  was  at  work 
in  the  interest  of  Colonel  Crain.  So,  in  the  old  fashion — not 
yet  out  of  date,  by-the-way  —  the  fight  went  on  for  several 
days,  until  just  before  the  meeting  of  the  caucus  which  was 
to  decide  it,  when  it  seemed  certain  that  Mr.  Seymour  must 
succeed.  At  the  last  moment,  however,  his  opponents  began 
to  circulate  what  appeared  to  be  a  well-authenticated  story,  to 
the  effect  that  Governor  Wright  was  much  opposed  to  the 
"  Hunker  "  candidate,  and  had  expressed  a  desire  for  the  suc- 
cess of  Colonel  Crain.  This  report  injured  Mr.  Seymour 
greatly,  and  without  delay  he,  with  two  friends,  went  to  see 
the  Governor.  They  found  the  round-faced,  bright-eyed,  and 
firm-mouthed  old  statesman  preparing  his  Message ;  and  the 
candidate  for  Speaker,  at  once  making  known  his  business, 
said, 

"  If  it  is  true,  Governor,  that  you  would  regard  my  success 
unfavorably,  I  will  without  delay  withdraw  my  name,  though 
by  such  action  I  will  greatly  injure  myself.  Still,  I  desire  the 
success  of  your  administration  above  all  personal  considera- 
tions, and  whatever  your  wishes  in  the  matter  may  be,  I  will 
follow  them." 

To  this  the  Governor,  with  characteristic  bluntness,  replied, 

"  It  is  not  true,  Mr.  Seymour,  this  story  that  I  have  ex- 
pressed any  opinion  on  the  question  of  the  Speakership.  I 
have  taken  no  part  in  the  matter,  and  will  express  no  wishes 
as  to  the  result." 

Satisfied  with  this  assurance,  Mr.  Seymour  and  his  friends 
left  the  Executive  Chamber,  and  gave  publicity  to  the  Gov- 
ernor's declaration  of  neutrality.  In  the  Democratic  caucus 
held  a  few  hours  later  the  "Hunker"  candidate  received  35 
votes,  and  the  "Barnburner"  30.  The  next  day  Horatio  Sey- 
mour was  formally  elected  Speaker  of  the  New  York  Assem- 
bly. On  the  same  afternoon  he  told  Hugh  J.  Hastings — who 
was  even  then  a  familiar  figure  in  the  Capitol — that  he  looked 


"The  Farmer  Statesman."  15 

upon  the  position  as  one  of  the  most  honorable  and  distin- 
guished which  any  American  could  hope  to  fill. 

Mr.  Seymour  certainly  did  his  utmost  to  maintain  the  dig- 
nity of  the  place  which  he  regarded  thus  highly.  He  was  an 
excellent  presiding  officer,  distinguished  for  his  fairness  and 
uniform  courtesy  to  men  of  all  parties ;  and  during  the  excit- 
ing and  momentous  session  which  followed  his  election  he  was 
never  accused,  even  by  his  bitterest  enemies,  of  making  use  of 
his  great  influence  to  further  any  private  scheme  or  personal 
ambition.  Acting  always  with  the  "Hunkers"  on  part)7  ques- 
tions, he  and  his  friends  secured  the  election  of  Daniel  S.  Dick- 
inson to  the  United  States  Senate,  and  indirectly  aided  in  se- 
curing for  "William  L.  Marcy  the  portfolio  of  Secretary  of  War. 
He  was  not  equally  successful  in  his  efforts  to  prevent  the 
disorganization  of  his  party.  The  "  Hunker  and  Barnburn- 
er" war  continued  to  increase  in  bitterness,  until  at  last  the 
"Barnburners"  gave  signs  of  favoring  a  Whig  bill  providing 
for  a  convention  to  revise  the  State  Constitution.  This  Mr. 
Seymour  opposed  with  all  his  power.  He  argued  with  much 
force,  from  a  party  stand-point,  that  the  Democrats  were  then 
in  absolute  possession  of  all  branches  of  the  Government,  not 
only  State  but  national.  He  drew  attention  to  the  fact  that  a 
representative  of  their  party  sat  in  the  White  House ;  that  the 
Governor  of  the  State  and  all  the  State  officers  were  Demo- 
crats, that  Congress  and  the  Legislature  were  in  their  hands; 
and  he  warned  them  that  changes  could  only  result  in  advan- 
tage to  their  political  opponents.  But  his  arguments  were  in 
vain.  The  bill  ordering  the  Constitutional  Convention  was 
passed;  the  "Barnburner  and  Hunker"  troubles  continued, 
and  culminated  in  the  Van  Buren-Cass  feud,  the  election  of 
Taylor  to  the  Presidency,  and  the  overthrow  of  the  Democ- 
racy in  the  nation  and  State. 

For  nearly  five  years  after  the  exciting  Legislative  session 
which  in  creat  measure  contributed  to  these  results  Horatio 


1 6  Twelve  Americans. 

Seymour  remained  quietly  at  his  home  in  Utica,  taking  no 
active  part  in  politics,  but  as  usual  keeping  himself  thoroughly 
and  accurately  informed  of  the  drift  of  public  affairs.  In 
1850,  his  party  being  in  what  was  regarded  as  a  hopeless  mi- 
nority, he  was  called  from  this  retirement,  and  tendered  the 
Democratic  nomination  for  the  Governorship.  He  accepted ; 
made  a  canvass  of  characteristic  energy  and  vigor;  greatly  in- 
creased the  Democratic  vote,  but  was  defeated.  Washington 
Hunt,  the  Whig  candidate,  who,  as  it  happened,  was  a  warm 
personal  friend  of  Mr.  Seymour,  was  supported  by  the  Anti- 
renters,  a  powerful  organization,  which  drew  largely  from  the 
Democracy,  and  was  elected  by  the  scant  majority  of  262 
votes. 

The  remarkably  good  run  which  Mr.  Seymour  made  in  this 
contest,  coupled  with  the  fact  that  he  had  fought  bravely, 
hopefully,  to  the  very  last,  and  under  heavy  odds,  won  for 
him  many  new  friends ;  and  in  the  bitter  and  exciting  strug- 
gle which  came  two  years  later  he  was  again  placed  at  the 
head  of  the  Democratic  State  ticket.  After  an  exhaustive  per- 
sonal canvass  he  was  elected  over  Hunt,  the  Whig,  and  Tomp- 
kins, the  Free-soil  candidate,  by  a  majority  of  several  thou- 
sand. He  entered  upon  the  Governorship  at  a  most  exciting 
period  in  the  history  of  the  State.  The  advocates  of  temper- 
ance had  gone  mad — no  other  word  will  properly  express  their 
condition.  They  clamored  loudly  for  laws  arbitrarily  and  un- 
qualifiedly prohibiting  the  sale  of  liquors.  The  Legislature  of 
1854,  with  the  time-serving  cowardice  characteristic  of  New 
York  Legislatures,  bowed  to  the  storm,  which  its  chief  mem- 
bers believed  to  be  a  popular  one,  and  passed  a  most  stringent 
liquor  law,  similar  to  that  which  had  recently  gone  into  force 
in  Maine.  Governor  Seymour,  very  properly  holding,  as  he 
has  always  done,  that  no  legislative  body  has  the  right  to  rob 
citizens  of  their  private  and  personal  liberties,  after  due  delib- 
eration, but  nevertheless  with  becoming  promptness,  braved 


"The  Farmer  Statesman."  ij 

the  bitter  enmity  of  the  temperance  fanatics,  which  he  was 
fully  aware  he  must  encounter,  and  vetoed  the  bill.  The  sa- 
lient points  of  his  memorable  and  much-quoted  Message  are  as 
follows : 

"The  bill  is  wrong,  because  it  directs  unreasonable  searches  of  the 
premises  and  dwellings  of  our  citizens  under  circumstances  calculated  to 
provoke  resistance.;  it  deprives  persons  of  their  property  in  a  manner  pro- 
hibited by  the  Constitution ;  it  subjects  them,  on  mere  suspicion  of  knowl- 
edge of  a  suspected  crime,  to  an  inquisitorial  examination.  *  *  *  For  one 
act  of  alleged  violation  of  law  a  citizen  may  be  proceeded  against  as  a 
criminal — be  fined  or  imprisoned,  and  his  property  seized  or  forfeited ;  he 
may  be  proceeded  against  in  civil  suits  by  various  parties  with  whom  he 
has  had  no  dealings,  and  subjected  to  the  payment  of  damages  where  none 
have  been  averred  or  proved.  To  all  these  prosecutions  he  may  be  sub- 
jected without  the  benefit  of  trial,  in  the  usual  and  judicial  meaning  of  the 
term.  *  *  *  The  idea  pervades  the  bill  that  unusual,  numerous,  and  severe 
penalties  will  secure  enforcement,  but  all  experience  shows  that  the  undue 
severity  of  laws  defeats  their  execution.  After  the  excitement  which  en- 
acted them  has  passed  away  no  one  feels  disposed  to  enforce  them,  for 
no  law  can  be  sustained  which  goes  beyond  public  feeling  and  sentiment. 
*  *  *  The  Constitution  makes  it  my  duty  to  point  out  the  objectionable 
features  of  this  bill,  but  I  owe  it  to  the  subject  and  the  friends  of  the 
measure  to  add  the  expression  of  my  belief  that  intemperance  cannot  be 
extirpated  by  prohibitory  laws.  They  are  not  consistent  with  sound  prin- 
ciples of  legislation.  Like  decrees  to  regulate  religious  creeds  or  forms 
of  worship,  they  provoke  resistance  when  they  are  designed  to  enforce 
obedience.  *  *  *  The  effort  to  suppress  intemperance  by  unusual  and  ar- 
bitrary measures  proves  that  the  Legislature  is  attempting  to  do  that  which 
is  not  within  its  province  to  enact  or  its  power  to  enforce.  This  is  the 
error  which  lies  at  the  foundation  of  this  bill — which  distorts  its  details 
and  makes  it  a  cause  of  angry  controversy.  *  *  *  Should  it  become  a  law 
it  would  render  its  advocates  odious  as  the  supporters  of  unjust  and  arbi- 
trary enactments.  Its  evils  would  only  cease  upon  its  repeal  or  when  it 
became  a  dead-letter  upon  the  statute-book.  Judicious  legislation  may 
correct  abuses  in  the  manufacture,  sale,  or  use  of  intoxicating  licmors, 
but  it  can  do  no  more.  All  experience  shows  that  temperance,  like  other 
virtues,  is  not  produced  by  law-makers,  but  by  the  influences  of  education, 
morality,  and  religion." 

The  storm  of  virtuous  indignation  which  this  most  judicious 
and  statesmanlike  Message  produced  among  "  the  temperance 
people,"  and  the  political  manipulators  who   sought  to  curry 


1 8  Twelve  Americans. 

favor  with  them,  cannot  be  adequately  described.  On  all  sides, 
from  the  platform,  the  pulpit,  and  in  the  organs  of  public 
opinion,  Governor  Seymour  was  unsparingly  denounced  as  an 
apostle  of  drunkenness  and  an  aider  and  abettor  of  the  dram- 
seller.  To  sucb  an  extent  did  bis  veto  excite  the  malignant 
prejudice  of  a  certain  class  of  the  so-called  Christian  people, 
that  every  subsequent  act  of  his  administration,- no  matter  how 
trivial  or  unimportant,  was  looked  upon  with  suspicion  and  de- 
nounced as  wrong.  At  one  time,  when  he  was  on  the  point 
of  writing  a  Thanksgiving  proclamation,  a  doctor  of  divinity, 
celebrated  for  his  learning,  piety,  and  goodness,  happened  into 
the  Executive  Chamber,  and,  as  the  proclamation  was  to  appeal 
in  a  degree  to  the  religious  sentiment  of  the  State,  Mr.  Sey- 
mour asked  him  to  write  it.  He  did  so  in  the  most  orthodox 
style ;  but  no  sooner  was  it  issued  than  the  Governor,  whose 
name  was,  of  course,  appended  to  it,  was  denounced  afresh  as 
an  irreligious,  immoral,  and  bad  man.  One  religious  paper, 
the  chief  organ  of  the  very  denomination  to  which  the  real 
author  of  the  proclamation  belonged,  characterized  it  as  "a 
disgraceful  production,  evidently  written  by  a  man  of  infidel 
tendencies."  So,  until  the  end  of  his  term,  "the  Christian 
press"  and  the  advocates  of  temperance  continued  to  vilify 
and  abuse  the  Governor.  Indeed,  only  one  great  organ  of 
public  opinion  could  be  found  which  was  fearless  and  inde- 
pendent enough  to  speak  well  of  him  at  this  trying  period  in 
his  career.  The  New  York  Times,  though,  •  of  course,  ear- 
nestly and  unqualifiedly  opposed  to  his  political  principles,  said, 
regarding  his  veto  of  the  Liquor  Bill:  "There  are  very  few 
sober  people  who  will  not  confess  that  the  Governor's  objec- 
tions to  the  details  of  the  bill  are  substantially  sound  and  en- 
titled to  weight."  But,  of  course,  these  few  words  of  praise 
did  him  no  good  with  his  own  party,  and  in  the  election  of 
1854,  when  he  was  again  a  candidate  for  Governor,  he  was 
defeated  by  the  opposition  of  disaffected  Democrats.     Myron 


"The  Fanner  Statesman."  19 

H.  Clark,  the  Whig  and  temperance  nominee,  was  declared 
elected  in  his  place  by  a  very  small  plurality.  It  is  worthy 
of  note  that  in  this  contest  the  American,  or  Know-nothing, 
Party,  which  was  then  at  the  height  of  its  power,  in  a  total 
poll  of  469,431,  cast  122,282  votes. 

From  this  point  on  the  politics  of  the  State  and  nation  be- 
gan to  turn  more  and  more  upon  the  slavery  question ;  and 
Mr.  Seymour,  once  again  in  private  life,  though  never  for  a 
moment  anticipating  the  terrible  war  which  was  to  follow,  saw- 
clearly  that  the  struggle  between  the  slave-holding  power  and 
the  freedom-loving  masses  of  the  North  and  West  was  destined 
to  be  a  most  desperate  one.  Three  years  before,  as  a  delegate 
to  the  national  meeting  which  nominated  Pierce  for  the  Presi- 
dency, he  again  and  again  counselled  moderation ;  and,  sin- 
cerely believing  that  his  life -long  friend,  William  L.  Marcy, 
would  be  able  to  avert  the  danger  which  threatened  the  coun- 
try, he  urged  his  name  upon  the  convention.  Owing  to  the 
"Barnburner- Hunker "  feud,  as  he  still  believes,  his  efforts 
were  unsuccessful.  Marcy  was  made  a  member  of  the  Cabi- 
net, however,  and,  verifying  Mr.  Seymour's  predictions,  was, 
throughout  the  whole  of  the  Kansas  difficulties,  the  wisest 
counsellor  of  the  administration. 

At  this  time  the  two  gentlemen  were  in  constant  communi- 
cation ;  and  it  was,  therefore,  no  surprise  to  Governor  Seymour 
to  receive,  late  at  night,  from  Secretary  Marcy  a  telegram  ask- 
ing him  to  come  to  Washington  without  delay.  He  was  not 
able  to  comply  with  the  request  immediately,  however,  and 
two  days  afterward  received  the  following  letter.  It  is  now 
for  the  first  time  made  public. 

"[Private.]  Washington,  February  10, 1S56. 

"My  dear  Sir, — I  sent  to  you  at  New  York  a  telegraph  last  night  urg- 
ing you  to  come  here  forthwith  if  you  could.  The  object  in  having  you 
come  here  is  to  induce  you  to  go  on  a  commission  to  Kansas. 

"  The  President  is  determined  to  send  two  high  men  immediately  to  that 
Territory,  in  order  to  use  their  influence  to  adjust  the  differences  there. 


20  Twelve  Americans. 

The  mission  is  truly  important,  and  I  sincerely  hope  you  will  not  hesitate 
to  accept  it.  It  is  important  that  the  persons  who  go  out  should  be  there 
as  soon  as  possible.  One  Commissioner  will  be  from  the  North,  and  the 
other  from  the  South.  Yours  truly,  W.  L.  Marct." 

To  this  letter  Mr.  Seymour  immediately  replied,  thanking 
the  Secretary  for  the  renewed  evidences  of  his  confidence  con- 
tained in  it,  but  positively  declining  to  serve  on  the  proposed 
commission.  As  a  reason  for  this  action,  he  wrote  that  the 
Governor  and  other  officers  of  the  Territory,  duly  appointed 
and  recognized,  should  be  able  to  quiet  all  disturbances  and 
put  an  end  to  the  existing  difficulties.  In  conclusion,  he  urged 
that  the  contemplated  commission  could  only  embarrass  those 
officers,  decrease  the  respect  which  the  people  should  have 
for  them,  make  less  their  authority,  and  impair  their  useful- 
ness. The  wisdom  of  this  view  was,  in  the  end,  abundantly 
proved. 

Shortly  after  this  correspondence,  in  the  National  Demo- 
cratic Convention  of  the  same  year,  Horatio  Seymour  was  again 
one  of  the  most  prominent  delegates,  and  was  once  more  in- 
defatigable in  his  efforts  to  heal  the  breaches  in  the  organiza- 
tion of  his  party.  But,  despite  all  his  endeavors,  the  old  fight 
of  the  "  Barnburners"  and  "  Hunkers"  broke  out  afresh.  It  be- 
ing decided  that  both  sides  should  be  represented  in  the  conven- 
tion, many  of  the  New  York  leaders  went  home  greatly  dissat- 
isfied ;  and  the  old  Van  Buren  men,  leaving  the  Democracy, 
united  with  the  Free-soilers  and  aided  to  make  up  the  Repub- 
lican Party  of  the  Empire  State.  It  has  been  said  by  numbers 
of  usually  well-informed  politicians  of  the  old  school  that  in 
this  convention  Mr.  Seymour  was  favorable  to  the  candidacy 
of  Mr.  Douglas.  This  is  a  mistake.  He  persistently  urged 
the  renomination  of  President  Pierce,  but  was  not  unfriendly 
to  Buchanan,  and,  in  the  campaign  which  followed,  literally 
worked  night  and  day  to  secure  the  election  of  that  gentle- 
man.    Among  other   memorable   speeches   delivered  by  him 


"The  Farmer  Statesman"  21 

during  the  canvass  was  one  addressed  to  a  mass -meeting  in 
Massachusetts.  In  the  course  of  it  he  warned  the  people  of 
New  England  against  the  dangers  of  sectional  division  and  sec- 
tional prejudice,  speaking,  as  he  thought,  with  what  might  be 
regarded  as  rather  undue  directness  and  heat.  It  is  notewor- 
thy that  the  great  political  turn-coat,  Benjamin  F.  Butler,  who 
was  chairman  of  the  meeting,  disagreed  with  him  in  this  re- 
spect, and,  commenting  upon  the  portion  of  his  speech  referred 
to,  said ;  "  You  didn't  give  it  to  them  half  hard  enough." 

After  his  inauguration,  the  President,  deeply  appreciating 
the  services  of  Governor  Seymour  in  his  behalf,  offered  him  a 
foreign  mission ;  but,  preferring  to  continue  the  historical  re- 
search and  study  in  which  he  was  then  engaged  and  always  de- 
lighted, the  Governor,  with  sincere  thanks,  declined  the  honor. 
lie  continued,  however,  to  take  the  liveliest  interest  in  local 
and  State  affairs,  attending  numerous  conventions  and  deliver- 
ing many  political  and  other  speeches. 

It  was  during  this  period  in  the  history  of  the  State  that 
laws  were  passed  establishing  the  much -criticised  system  of 
government  by  commissions,  under  which  occurred  the  origi- 
nal organization  of  the  Metropolitan  Police  force  of  New  York 
City.  These  enactments  were  exceedingly  distasteful  to  the 
local  Democratic  managers,  if  irot  to  the  great  masses  of  the 
party,  and,  on  the  plea  that  they  were  unconstitutional,  the 
Court  of  Appeals  was  asked  to  set  them  aside.  This  the 
court  refused  to  do,  Hiram  Denio,  a  pronounced  Democrat, 
but  nevertheless  an  upright  judge,  delivering  the  opinion  ad- 
verse to  his  party  friends.  The  feeling  against  him  in  conse- 
quence was  intense,  and  at  the  nominating  convention,  held  a 
few  weeks  afterward  to  name  a  candidate  for  Justice,  his  term 
having  expired,  he  was  denounced  in  unmeasured  terms.  No 
one  dared  say  a  word  in  his  defence.  It  seemed  as  if  he  had 
no  friend  in  the  convention,  and  without  opposition  another 
candidate  was  about  to  be  selected  for  his  position,  when  Ho- 


22  Twelve  Americans. 

ratio  Seymour,  acting  as  a  delegate  from  Oneida,  rose,  and  at 
once  commanding  that  respectful  attention  always  accorded 
him  in  even  the  most  unruly  of  Democratic  assemblages,  said, 
calmly, 

"  I  desire  to  renominate  Hiram  Denio  for  Judge  of  the  Court 
of  Appeals !" 

If  a  thunder-bolt  had  fallen  among  the  delegates  they  could 
not  have  been  more  astonished.  They  were  dumb  from  sur- 
prise, and  in  the  utmost  silence  listened  as  the  speaker  con- 
tinued :  "  I  desire  that  we  renominate  him,  not  because  we 
approve  his  decision — indeed,  I  am  hostile  to  the  system  of 
commissions,  and  differ  with  Judge  Denio  in  his  views  of  the 
law — but  because  we  respect  his  office,  have  confidence  in  his 
motives,  and  are  willing  to  accept  and  observe  any  statute 
legitimately  passed  and  affirmed  by  the  courts,  I  desire  that 
we  renominate  him,  because  by  doing  so  we  will  demonstrate 
the  sincerity  of  the  Democratic  Party  in  its  professions  of  re- 
spect for  an  independent  judiciary." 

The  effect  of  this  short  address  was  almost  magical.  Ho- 
ratio Seymour  has  seldom  met  with  opposition  in  a  convention 
of  Xew  York  Democrats.  On  the  occasion  in  question  his 
victory  was  complete.  Judge  Denio  was  renominated  by  men 
who  a  few  moments  before  had  heaped  upon  him  the  bitterest 
abuse ;  subsequently  he  was  re-elected  by  .the  people.  There 
is  not  in  the  history  of  the  State  a  more  striking  example  of 
the  power  which  a  great  leader  may  at  times  exert  over  a  con- 
vention of  his  political  friends. 

But  the  leader  of  the  Xew  York  Democracy  was  not  des- 
tined much  longer  to  exert  his  power  in  local  conventions. 
He  was  needed  in  another  field.  At  this  time  momentous 
and  startling  events  followed  each  other  in  quick  succession. 
The  great  Republican  Party  was  organized  from  the  pine-hills 
of  Maine  to  the  slopes  of  the  Pacific.  The  best  sentiment  of 
the  American  people  declared  that  the  odious  system  of  hu- 


"The  Farmer  Statesman^  23 

man  slavery,  which  had  so  long  heen  a  disgrace  to  the  nation, 
should  be  extended  to  no  new  Territory.  Abraham  Lincoln 
was  nominated  and  elected  to  the  Presidency  upon  a  platform 
of  which  this  sentiment  was  the  leading  plank.  The  arro- 
gant and  traitorous  Democratic  and  State -rights  leaders  of 
the  South  rebelled,  and  drove  their  blind  and  confiding  dupes 
to  arms.  The  flag  of  the  Union  was  fired  upon,  and  civil  war 
declared. 

III. 

RECOLLECTIONS   OF   THE   REBELLION.— WAR   GOVERNOR   OF 
NEW  YORK. 

Horatio  Seymour,  who  had  known  Calhoun  and  Jackson 
and  Taylor,  who  had  helped  to  make  weak  and  vacillating 
James  Buchanan  President  of  the  United  States,  who  had  all 
his  life  been  an  advocate  of  the  doctrine  of  the  rights  of 
States,  who  was  born  and  bred  a  Democrat,  who  had  become 
one  of  the  pillars  of  his  party,  must  not  be  denounced  be- 
cause in  this  crisis  his  sympathies  were  with  the  men  of  the 
South,  and  against  Lincoln  and  those  who  declared  that  the 
soil  of  free  America  should  not  be  polluted  by  a  farther  ex- 
tension of  slavery.  That  his  most  earnest  sympathies  were 
so  directed  there  can  be  no  doubt.  Indeed,  it  is  a  matter  of 
historical  record  that  he  believed  the  Republican  leaders,  and 
not  the  slave-holders  of  the  South,  were  driving  the  country  to 
war  and  destruction.  That  he  held  these  views  is  sufficiently 
evidenced  in  his  eloquent  speech  delivered  before  the  so-called 
"Peace  Convention,"  held  in  Albany  soon  after  the  secession 
of  Louisiana,  and  the  withdrawal  of  Jefferson  Davis  and  his  co- 
conspirators from  the  Union  Senate.     In  that  address  he  said: 

"  Throe  score  and  ten  years,  the  period  allotted  for  the  life  of  man,  have 
rolled  away  since  George  Washington  was  inaugurated  first  President  of 
the  United  States,  in  the  city  of  New  York.  We  were  then  among  the 
feeblest-  people  of  the  earth.  The  flag  of  Great  Britain  waved  over  Os- 
wego with  insulting  defiance  of  our  national  rights  and  the  treaty  recogniz- 


24  Twelve  Americans. 

ing  our  Independence.  The  powers  of  the  earth  regarded  us  'with  indif- 
ference or  treated  us  with  contemptuous  injustice.  So  swift  has  been  our 
progress  under  the  influence  of  our  Union,  that  but  yesterday  we  could 
defy  the  world  in  arms  and  none  dared  to  insult  our  flag.  *  *  *  Some  yet 
live  to  see  our  numbers  increased  from  4,000,000  to  40,000,000,  our  terri- 
tories quadrupled  and  extended  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific,  our  power 
and  progress  the  wonder  of  the  world.  Alas !  sir,  they  have  also  lived  to 
see  the  patriotism  and  paternal  love  which  have  wrought  out  these  mar- 
vellous results  die  out,  and  the  mighty  fabric  of  our  Government  about 
to  crumble  and  fall  because  the  virtues  which  reared  and  upheld  it  have 
departed  from  our  councils. 

"  What  a  spectacle  do  we  present  to-day !  Already  six  States  have  with- 
drawn from  this  Confederacy.  Revolution  has  actually  begun.  The  term 
'secession'  divests  it  of  none  of  its  terrors,  nor  do  arguments  to  prove  se- 
cession inconsistent  with  our  Constitution  stay  its  progress  or  mitigate  its 
evils.  All  virtue,  patriotism,  and  intelligence  seem  to  have  fled  from  our 
national  capital ;  it  has  been  well  likened  to  the  conflagration  of  an  asylum 
for  madmen.  Some  look  on  with  idiotic  imbecility,  some  in  sullen  silence, 
and  some  scatter  the  firebrands  which  consume  the  fabric  above  them  and 
bring  upon  all  a  common  destruction.  *  *  *  The  wrongs  of  our  local  legis- 
lation, the  growing  burdens  of  debt  and  taxation,  the  gradual  destruction 
of  the  African  in  the  free  States  (which  is  marked  by  each  recurring  cen- 
sus), are  all  due  to  the  neglect  of  our  own  duties  caused  by  the  complete 
absorption  of  the  public  mind  by  a  senseless,  unreasoning  fanaticism.  The 
agitation  of  the  question  of  slavery  has  thus  far  brought  greater  social, 
moral,  and  legislative  evils  upon  the  people  of  the  free  States  than  it  has 
upon  the  institutions  of  those  against  whom  it  has  been  excited." 

These  were  Governor  Seymour's  views  expressed  before  war 
had  actually  commenced,  and  when  it  was  believed  by  many 
that  the  civil  struggle  could  be  prevented  if  the  North  and  the 
Republican  Administration  at  Washington  would  make  what 
were  called  "  proper  overtures  and  concessions  to  the  South." 
After  the  war  began,  however,  he  ceased  to  be  a  partisan  and 
became  a  patriot.  His  one  aim  was  to  save  the  Union,  at  no 
matter  what  cost.  He  had  no  farther  words  of  reproach  for 
the  Republican  Administration.  Speaking  for  the  War  Demo- 
crats, he  said :  "  We  denounce  the  rebellion  as  most  wicked, 
because  it  wages  war  against  the  best  Government  the  world 
has  ever  seen."  Throwing  aside  all  personal  considerations, 
he  responded  to  the  President's  call  for  troops  by  serving  on 


" The  Farmer  Statesman"  25 

committees  charged  with  the  enrolment  and  equipment  of  vol- 
unteers, and  by  frequent  and  urgent  appeals  to  the  young  men 
of  his  party  to  hasten  to  the  defence  of  their  country. 

It  is  noteworthy  that  one  of  the  first  and  greatest  effects  of 
our  civil  war  was  to  break  up  and  disband  all  minor  political 
organizations.  Men  ceased  to  be  "  Free-soilers,;'  "  Know-noth- 
ings," "Anti- renters,"  "Hunkers,"  and  "Barnburners;"  they 
were  simply  Republicans  and  Democrats — for  the  Union  or 
against  it.  This  was  the  condition  of  parties  in  the  fall  of 
1862,  when  the  official  term  of  Edwin  D.  Morgan,  the  Repub- 
lican war  Governor,  was  about  to  close.  In  an  expiring  effort 
"the  Americans"  had  met,  determined  to  act  in  future  with 
the  Democracy,  and  named  Horatio  Seymour  as  their  choice 
for  Governor.  His  friends  followed  the  lead  of  these  men, 
who  had  been  his  bitter  political  enemies,  and  he  was  nomi- 
nated by  the  regular  Democratic  Convention.  General  Wads- 
worth  was  made  the  Republican  candidate,  and  the  campaign 
opened  amid  almost  unparalleled  excitement.  The  Republi- 
cans, supported  by  the  national  Administration,  were  confident 
of  success ;  and  Mr.  Seymour,  encouraged  by  an  immense  per- 
sonal following,  was  determined  and  hopeful.  He  knew,  how- 
ever, that  he  had  a  hard,  a  desperate  fight  before  him,  and  to 
win  it  he  took  the  unusual  course  of  making  a  close  personal 
canvass  and  appealing  directly  to  the  people  for  their  votes. 
Most  of  the  prominent  Democratic  campaign  speakers  had 
gone  over  to  the  Republicans,  and  he  was  forced  to  take  nearly 
all  the  burden  of  the  campaign  upon  his  own  shoulders.  Still, 
he  battled  bravely  against  every  difficulty,  delivered  sixty  ad- 
dresses during  the  canvass,  and  was  elected  by  a  majority  of 
more  than  10,000.  On  the  1st  of  January,  1863,  he  was  inau- 
gurated at  Albany,  in  the  presence  of  a  great  gathering  of 
people.  Upon  taking  his  seat  he  pledged  himself  by  every 
means  in  his  power  to  aid  in  preserving  the  Union,  and  said, 
farther:  "I  have  solemnly  sworn  to  support  the  Constitution 

3 


26  Twelve  Americans. 

of  the  United  States,  with  all  its  grants,  restrictions,  and  guar- 
antees, and  shall  support  it.  I  have  also  sworn  to  support  the 
Constitution  of  the  State  of  New  York,  with  all  its  powers  and 
rights.     I  shall  uphold  it." 

From  his  standpoint  and  to  the  very  best  of  his  great  abil- 
ity Horatio  Seymour  kept  these  pledges.  No  man  doubted 
that  he  would  uphold  the  Constitution  of  his  native  State,  but 
there  were  many  who  believed  he  could  not  be  relied  upon  to 
support  the  war  measures  of  the  general  Government,  or  to 
promptly  obey  the  lawful  demands  of  President  Lincoln.  The 
men  who  entertained  this  opinion  were  greatly  mistaken.  Gov- 
ernor Seymour  never  failed  to  respond  cheerfully  and  speedily 
to  every  call  for  help  which  came  to  him  from  the  national 
Administration.  How  frequent  and  urgent  such  calls  were  the 
record  shows.  He  had  not  been  in  office  six  months  when  he 
received  the  following  telegram  : 

"  Washington,  June  15, 1S63. 
"  To  his  Excellency  Gov.  Seymour  : 

"  The  movements  of  the  rebel  forces  in  Virginia  are  now  sufficiently  de- 
veloped to  show  that  General  Lee,  with  his  whole  army,  is  moving  forward 
to  invade  the  States  of  Maryland,  Pennsylvania,  and  other  States.  The 
President,  to  repel  this  invasion  promptly,  has  called  upon  Ohio,  Pennsyl- 
vania, Maryland,  and  Western  Virginia  for  100,000  militia  for  six  months, 
unless  sooner  discharged.  It  is  important  to  have  the  largest  possible 
force  in  the  least  time,  and  if  other  States  would  furnish  militia  for  a  short 
term,  to  be  allowed  on  the  draft,  it  would  greatly  advance  the  object.  Will 
you  please  inform  me  immediately  if  in  answer  to  a  special  call  of  the 
President  you  can  raise  and  forward,  say,  20,000  militia,  as  volunteers  with- 
out bounty,  to  be  credited  to  the  draft  of  your  State,  or  what  number  you 
can  probably  raise  ?  E.  M.  Stanton,  Secretary  of  War." 

Three-quarters  of  an  hour  after  the  Secretary  of  AVar  had 
forwarded  this  telegram  he  received  the  following  reply  : 

"Albany,  June  15, 1S63. 
"  The  Hon.  E.  M.  Stanton,  Secretary  of  War,  Washington  : 

"  I  will  spare  no  efforts  to  send  you  troops  at  once.  I  have  sent  orders 
to  the  militia  officers  of  the  State.  Horatio  Seymour." 


"The  Farmer  Statesman^  27 

Three  days  later  the  Governor  had  fulfilled  his  promise,  and 
the  following  despatch  was  sent  to  Washington  : 

"Albany,  June  IS,  18C3. 
' '  To  the  Hon.  E\  M.  Stanton,  Secretary  of  War  : 

"  About  12,000  men  are  now  on  the  move  for  Harrisburg,  Penn.,  in  good 

spirits,  and  well  equipped.     The  Governor  asks,  '  Shall  troops  continue  to 

be  forwarded  ?'     Please  answer. 

"John  T.  Sprague,  Adjutant-general." 

To  this  the  Secretary  made  the  following  reply : 

"By  Telegraph  from  Washington,  June  19, 1S63. 
"  To  Adjt.-Gen.  Sprague: 

"  The  President  directs  me  to  return  his  thanks  to  his  Excellency  Gov- 
ernor Seymour  and  his  staff  for  their  energetic  and  prompt  action.  Wheth- 
er any  farther  force  is  likely  to  be  required  will  be  communicated  to  you 
to-morrow,  by  which  time  it  is  expected  the  movements  of  the  enemy  will 
be  more  fully  developed.  Edwin  M.  Stanton,  Secretary  of  War." 

Subsequent  telegrams  from  Washington  informed  the  Gov- 
ernor that  no  more  troops  were  needed  in  Pennsylvania,  but 
later  on  he  received  the  following  from  Harrisburg : 

"By  Telegraph  from  Harrisburg,  July  2,  1863. 
"  To  his  Excellency  Gov.  Seymour  : 

"Send  forward  more  troops  as  rapidly  as  possible.  Every  hour  in- 
creases the  necessity  for  large  force  to  protect  Pennsylvania.  The  battles 
of  yesterday  were  not  decisive ;  and  if  Meade  should  be  defeated,  unless 
we  have  a  large  army,  this  State  will  be  overrun  by  the  rebels. 

"  A.  G.  Ccrtin,  Governor  of  Pennsylvania." 

And  to  this  appeal,  as  to  all  others  of  the  same  sort,  Gov- 
ernor Seymour  sent  a  prompt  and  favorable  reply.  Tlje  fol- 
lowing is  a  copy : 

"New  York,  July  2,  1SG3. 
"  To  Gov.  Curtin,  Harrisburg,  Penn.  : 

"  Your  telegram  is  received.     Troops  will  continue  to  be  sent.     One 

regiment  leaves  to-day,  another  to-morrow,  all  in  good  pluck. 

"John  T.  Sprague,  Adjutant-general." 

If  any  farther  proof  be  needed  of  the  fact  that  President 
Lincoln  and  Governor  Seymour  were  thoroughly  in  accord,  so 
far  as  their  official  relations  were  concerned,  and  that  they 
were  united  in  their  efforts  to  put  down  the  rebellion — a  fact 
which  has  more  than  once  been  disputed — it  will  bo  found  in 


28  Twelve  Americans. 

the  following  quaintly-worded  and  characteristic  letter  from 
the  Eepublican  President,  and  the  reply  to  that  letter  which 
was  sent  by  the  Democratic  Governor.  Both  communications 
were  written  in  the  strictest  confidence: 

"[Private  and  confidential.] 

"Executive  Mansion,  Washington,  March  23, 1SG3. 
11  Sis  Excellency  Gov.  Seymour: 

"  You  and  I  are  substantially  strangers,  and  I  write  this  chiefly  that  we 
may  become  better  acquainted.  I  for  the  time  being  am  at  the  head  of 
a  nation  which  is  in  great  peril,  and  you  are  at  the  head  of  the  greatest 
State  in  that  nation.  As  to  maintaining  the  nation's  life  and  integrity,  I 
assume  and  believe  there  cannot  be  a  difference  of  purpose  between  you 
and  me.  If  we  should  differ  as  to  the  means,  it  is  important  that  such  dif- 
ference should  be  as  small  as  possible — that  it  should  not  be  enhanced  by 
unjust  suspicions  on  one  side  or  the  other.  In  the  performance  of  my  duty 
the  co-operation  of  your  State,  as  that  of  others,  is  needed — in  fact,  is  in- 
dispensable. This  alone  is  sufficient  reason  why  I  should  wish  to  be  at  a 
good  understanding  with  you.  Please  write  me  at  least  as  long  a  letter  as 
this — of  course  saying  in  it  just  what  you  think  fit. — Yours  very  truly, 

"A.  Lincoln." 

To  this  communication  Horatio  Seymour  made  the  follow- 
ing reply : 

"State  of  New  York,  Executive  Department, 
Albany,  April  14, 1803. 

"Dear  Sir, — I  have  delayed  answering  your  letter  for  some  days  with 
a  view  of  preparing  a  paper  in  which  I  wish  to  state  clearly  the  aspect  of 
public  affairs  from  the  stand-point  I  occupy.  I  do  not  claim  any  superior 
wisdom,  but  I  am  confident  the  opinions  I  hold  are  entertained  by  one-half 
of  the  population  of  the  Northern  States.  I  have  been  prevented  from 
giving  my  views  in  the  manner  I  intended  by  a  pressure  of  official  duties, 
which,  at  the  present  stage  of  the  legislative  session  of  this  State,  confine 
me  to  the  Executive  Chamber  until  each  midnight ;  after  the  adjournment, 
which  will  soon  take  place,  I  will  give  you,  without  reserve,  my  opinion 
and  purposes  with  regard  to  the  condition  of  our  unhappy  country. 

"  In  the  mean  time,  I  assure  you  that  no  political  resentments,  no  per- 
sonal purposes,  will  turn  me  aside  from  the  pathway  I  have  marked  out 
for  myself.  I  intend  to  show  those  charged  with  the  administration  of 
public  affairs  a  due  deference  and  respect,  and  to  give  to  them  a  just  and 
generous  support  in  all  measures  they  may  adopt  within  the  scope  of  their 
constitutional  powers.  Tor  the  preservation  of  this  Union  I  am  ready  to 
make  any  sacrifice  of  interest,  passion,  or  prejudice. — Truly  yours, 

"Horatio  Seymour. 
"To  his  Excellency  Abraham  Lincoln." 


"  The  Farmer  Statesman."  29 

It  will  be  noticed  that  this  letter  contemplates  a  second  and 
longer  communication  from  the  Governor  to  the  President. 
The  events  attending  the  invasion  of  Pennsylvania  by  Lee  ren- 
dered such  a  writing  unnecessary.  The  Governor  testified  by 
his  acts  his  anxiety  to  aid  the  general  Government.  After 
those  acts — and  I  use  his  own  words  —  he  "could  not  well 
write  without  seeming  to  boast  of  what  had  been  done."  In 
connection  with  the  correspondence,  however,  it  is  worthy  of 
particular  note  that  Governor  Seymour,  in  addition  to  the  Hon. 
Simon  Cameron  and  one  other  distinguished  man  with  whom 
I  have  conversed  on  the  subject,  is  firmly  convinced  that  there 
was  at  one  time  what  can  only  be  called  a  conspiracy,  set  on 
foot  and  engaged  in  by  a  number  of  Republican  leaders,  to 
force  President  Lincoln  out  of  the  White  House.  Regarding 
this  movement,  ex-Senator  Cameron  said  to  me  in  May,  1878, 
"Late  in  1862  or  early  in  1863  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  a 
secret  effort  was  made  to  bring  about  the  ejectment  of  Presi- 
dent Lincoln  from  the  White  House.  Some  time  after  I  re- 
turned from  the  Russian  mission,  and  while  I  was  resting  at 
my  home  in  Pennsylvania,  I  received  from  a  number  of  the 
most  prominent  gentlemen  an  invitation  to  visit  Washington 
and  attend  a  meeting  which,  according  to  my  information,  was 
to  be  held  in  regard  to  national  affairs.  I  afterward  discover- 
ed that  this  invitation  was  extended  to  me  because  it  was  be- 
lieved that  my  somewhat  unpleasant  exit  from  the  War  De- 
partment had  rendered  me  hostile  to  Mr.  Lincoln  and  his  Ad- 
ministration. Knowing  nothing  of  this  at  the  time,  I  went 
to  the  capital,  and  found  there  assembled  a  number  of  promi- 
nent men  who  had  come  together  ostensibly  for  the  purpose 
of  advising  with  each  other  regarding  the  condition  of  the 
country.  This,  I  say,  was  their  ostensible  purpose,  but  I 
soon  discovered  that  their  real  object  was  to  find  means  by 
which  the  President  could  be  impeached  and  turned  out  of 
office.     The  complaint  against  Mr.  Lincoln  was,  that  he  lacked 


30  Twelve  Americans. 

ability  and  energy,  and  that  he  was  not  pushing  the  war 
with  sufficient  vigor.  These  reasons,  and  the  plan  of  attack, 
if  I  may  use  the  expression,  were  all  made  known  to  me,  and 
I  was  asked  for  my  advice.  I  gave  it,  stating,  with  as  much 
earnestness  as  I  could  command,  that  the  movement  proposed 
would  be  a  disastrous  one,  and  strongly  urging  that  it  would 
be  little  short  of  madness  to  interfere  with  the  Adminis- 
tration." 

Governor  Seymour,  though  not  in  possession  of  these  minute 
details  of  the  scheme,  is  confident  not  only  that  it  existed,  but 
that  President  Lincoln  was  aware  of  its  existence.  It  is  just 
possible  that  this  knowledge  accounts  for  the  great  anxiety 
which  he,  at  different  times,  displayed  to  be  on  intimate  friend- 
ly terms  with  Mr.  Seymour  and  other  prominent  Democrats 
whom  he  could  trust.  That  he  did  display  such  anxiety  there 
can  be  no  doubt.  Indeed,  it  can  be  stated  upon  the  authority 
of  an  eminent  Republican  veteran  of  the  city  of  New  York, 
now  dead — Thurlow  Weed — who  was  closely  identified  with 
his  Administration,  that  he,  on  at  least  one  occasion,  said,  in 
substance,  "If  Governor  Seymour  would  like  to  be  President 
of  the  United  States,  nothing  stands  in  his  way."  It  at  least 
cannot  be  denied  that  he  caused  an  intimation  of  this  charac- 
ter to  be  conveyed  to  the  Governor.  Nor  was  he  alone  in  his 
desire  to  be  "  at  a  good  understanding  "  with  the  leader  of  the 
New  York  Democracy.  Edwin  M.  Stanton,  the  most  radical 
member  of  his  Cabinet,  expressed  a  strong  desire  in  the  same 
direction.  The  proof  of  this  statement  will  be  found  in  the 
following  confidential  communication,  which,  like  the  letters 
of  Messrs.  Lincoln  and  Seymour,  has,  for  obvious  reasons,  re- 
mained until  now  unpublished : 

"  {Confidential.] 

"  War  Department,  Washington,  June  27, 1S63. 

"  Dear  Sir, — I  cannot  forbear  expressing  to  you  the  deep  obligation  I 
feel  for  the  prompt  and  cordial  support  you  have  given  to  the  Govern- 
ment in  the  present  emergency.     The  energy,  activity,  and  patriotism  you 


'■'•The  Farmer  Statesman."  31 

have  exhibited  I  may  be  permitted  personally  and  officially  to  acknowl- 
edge, without  arrogating  any  personal  claim  on  my  part  in  such  service,  or 
to  any  service  whatever. 

"  I  shall  be  happy  to  be  always  esteemed  your  friend. 

"Edwin  M.  Stanton. 

"His  Excellency  Hokatio  Seymodh." 

Still  more  significant  is  the  following  telegram,  to  which,  for 
reasons  that  need  not  be  stated,  Mr.  Seymour  made  no  reply  : 

"By  Telegraph  from  Washington,  May  23, 18G4. 
"  Tlie  Hon.  Gov.  Seymour  : 

"  Would  it  be  possible  for  you  to  come  to  Washington  immediately,  to 
enable  me  to  confer  with  you  personally  on  some  matters  of  great  per- 
sonal interest  ?     Please  answer.  Edwin  M.  Stanton." 

To  what  matter  of  great  "  personal  interest "  the  Secretary 
referred  Mr.  Seymour  may  have  suspected,  but  he  failed  to  en- 
ter into  the  communication  by  means  of  which  he  could  have 
been  definitely  informed.  It  is  more  than  probable,  however, 
that  Mr.  Stanton  desired  to  confer  with  him  in  regard  to  the 
choice  of  a  successor  to  President  Lincoln — 

But  to  return  to  Governor  Seymour's  services  during  the  war. 
Early  in  July,  1863,  he  received  from  General  Wool,  the  United 
States  officer  in  command  of  the  department,  a  letter  in  which 
that  gentleman  declared  that  New  York  City  was  absolutely 
without  defence  from  attacks,  which  might  be  made  by  rebel 
gun-boats  or  ships-of-war,  and  asked  for  State  troops  to  hold  the 
harbor  fortifications.  The  communication  was  a  most  urgent 
one.  The  city  of  New  York  was  not  only  the  financial  centre 
of  the  Union,  but,  to  a  great  extent,  the  treasury  of  the  nation, 
and  the  storehouse  of  the  army  and  navy.  Knowing  that 
such  an  attack  as  General  Wool  feared  would  be  followed  b}7 
evils  the  extent  of  which  no  man  could  estimate,  Governor 
Seymour,  without  delay,  set  about  complying  with  the  request 
made  by  him,  and  at  the  same  time  determined  that  he  would 
himself  make  an  inspection  of  the  fortifications.  Accompa- 
nied by  ex- Governor  Morgan  and  Comptroller  Robinson,  he 


32  Twelve  Americans. 

did  so,  and  found  that  General  Wool's  fears  were  only  too  Avell- 
founded.  The  so-called  defences  on  the  East  River  and  in  the 
harbor  were  then,  as  now,  tantamount  to  no  defences  at  all; 
and  at  Throgg's  Xeck  many  of  the  guns  commanding  the  en- 
trance to  the  city  through  the  Sound  were  not  even  mounted. 
Thoroughly  alarmed,  and  greatly  fearing  that  some  adventu- 
rous rebel  cruiser  might  obtain  information  of  the  city's  con- 
dition, the  Governor,  with  characteristic  energy,  gave  orders  for 
the  transportation  of  troops  from  Rochester  and  other  points 
in  the  interior  to  the  city  fortifications. 

On  Sunday,  July  12,  while  he  was  at  Long  Branch,  and  still 
engaged  in  this  work  of  providing  for  the  defence  of  the  coast, 
he  was  startled  by  a  telegram,  informing  him  that  the  long- 
threatened  and  much- dreaded  conscription  of  men  for  the 
Union  army  had  been  commenced  in  New  York  City.  This 
telegram  was  a  private  one !  Governor  Seymour  never  re- 
ceived any  official  notification  that  the  draft  was  to  commence, 
or  that  it  had  commenced,  nor  was  any  such  notification  sent 
to  Mr.  Opdyke,  the  Mayor  of  the  city,  or  to  General  Wool,  the 
United  States  officer  in  command.  Without  any  communica- 
tion with  those  gentlemen  or  with  the  Department  of  Police, 
and  without  for  a  moment  considering  that  the  forts  and  ar- 
senals of  the  city  had  been  stripped  of  their  garrisons;  that 
nearly  every  volunteer  soldier  and  militiaman  in  the  State  had, 
at  the  urgent  call  of  the  President,  been  hurried  off  to  the  sup- 
port of  Meade  and  the  defence  of  terror-stricken  Pennsylvania, 
the  Provost-marshal — at  whose  order  is  to  this  day  a  matter 
of  doubt — commenced  the  draft ! 

The  drawing  began  on  Saturday,  in  a  district  where  the  en- 
rolment was  so  excessive,  so  grossly  unjust,  that  the  Govern- 
ment subsequently  ordered  it  to  be  changed.  Most  of  those 
whose  names  came  from  the  wheel  were  of  one  nationality — 
a  nationality  noted  as  much  for  its  tendency  to  riot  and  dis- 
order, as  for  its  warm-hearted  impulse  and  reckless  generosity. 


"  The  Farmer  Statesman."  33 

The  names  of  the  conscripts  appeared  in  the  papers  on  Sun- 
day, when  they  had  ample  time  to  meet  together  and  curse  the 
conscription.  It  has  been  claimed  that  there  was  in  all  this  a 
deep-seated  design,  for  political  purposes,  to  force  a  portion  of 
the  community  into  such  excesses  as  would  make  it  necessary 
to  declare  the  Empire  City  under  martial  law.  This  claim  has 
not  been  justified ;  but  that  the  Provost-marshals,  or  those  be- 
hind them,  by  their  action  in  the  matter,  threw  prudence,  pro- 
priety, and  common-sense  to  the  winds,  there  can,  in  view  of 
subsequent  events,  be  no  doubt. 

Because  of  his  connection  with  the  terrible  riots  which  fol- 
lowed this  conscription — managed  or  mismanaged,  as  it  was, 
with  criminal  recklessness — Governor  Seymour  has  been  as 
severely  criticised,  and,  perhaps,  more  bitterly  denounced,  than 
any  public  man  of  his  time.  It  is  possible  that  the  following 
details  of  that  connection,  details  heretofore  known  only  to  a 
few  intimate  friends,  may  cause  those  who  so  criticised  and 
denounced  him  to  form  a  different,  and  it  may  be  a  juster, 
opinion  of  his  motives  and  action. 

On  Sunday  night,  when  he  first  received  word  that  the  draft 
was  actually  in  progress,  he  tried  to  make  his  way  to  the  city, 
but  found  that  he  could  not  do  so.  The  next  morning,  at  a 
very  early  hour,  he  received  a  second  telegram,  informing  him 
that  serious  disturbances  were  expected  to  follow  the  an- 
nouncement of  the  conscription.  Fearing  the  worst,  and  with- 
out having  tasted  food,  he  hurried  to  the  metropolis,  and,  be- 
ing previously  advised,  went  at  once  to  the  St.  Nicholas  Hotel. 
Here  he  found  Mayor  Opdyke,  General  Wool,  and  Mr.  Barney, 
the  Collector  of  the  Port,  already  assembled.  "Without  dis- 
paragement to  those  gentlemen,  it  may  be  said  that  they  were 
more  sensible  of  the  danger  which  threatened  the  city  than 
they  were  of  any  expedient  by  which  it  might  be  averted. 
They  had  every  reason  to  be  alarmed.  A  mob,  comprising 
thousands  of  ruffians  maddened  by  drink,  was  at  large  in  the 

2* 


34  Twelve  Americans. 

streets.  The  Provost- marshal's  office  had  been  sacked,  and 
the  block  of  buildings  in  which  it  was  situated  burned  to  the 
ground.  The  fire-bells  tolled  out  terrible  warnings.  Clouds 
of  lurid  smoke  shut  out  the  sun.  The  authorities  were  openly 
defied.  Riot  ruled  the  town.  No  man  could  say  what  an 
hour  would  bring  forth.  The  very  air  was  filled  with  untold 
alarm. 

Hardly  had  the  chief  magistrate  of  the  State  arrived  at  the 
St.  Nicholas  Hotel  when  the  proprietor,  fearing  that  his  pres- 
ence and  that  of  the  other  officers  of  the  law  might  incite  the 
mob  to  attack  the  building,  begged  him  for  God's  sake  to  leave 
it.  He  and  Mayor  Opdyke  did  so.  They  hastened  to  the  City 
Hall,  and  with  the  scant  means  at  their  command  did  every- 
thing possible  to  put  down  the  disturbances.  The  city  was 
declared  in  a  state  of  insurrection.  In  order  that  there  might 
be  no  conflict  between  the  militia  and  the  police  force,  which 
was  believed  to  be  unfriendly  to  the  State  Government,  Mi-. 
Seymour  gave  to  General  Ledlie,  a  Republican,  authority  to 
represent  him,  and  to  deal  with  the  police  and  military. 

But  still  the  riot  went  on.  Men  were  shot  down  in  the 
streets,  houses  were  sacked,  and  great  buildings  fell  crumbling 
in  flame.  A  crowd  gathered  round  the  City  Hall.  There  were 
in  it  quiet,  respectable  men,  and  others  mad  with  excitement. 
The  Governor  was  called  upon  to  speak.  Hoping  to  disperse 
the  mob,  desiring  to  conciliate  the  good  citizens  in  the  crowd, 
and,  above  all  things,  wishing  to  gain  time,  protect  property, 
and  prevent  bloodshed  (these  were  his  motives,  as  he  has  him- 
self explained  them  to  me),  he  went  boldly  before  the  excited 
people,  and  implored  them  to  disperse  to  their  homes  without 
farther  violations  of  the  peace.  At  the  same  time  he  said,  ac- 
cording to  one  report  of  his  short  and  hurried  speech — a  report 
the  accuracy  of  which  he  has  even  now  no  desire  to  question — 
"  I  beg  you  to  listen  to  me  as  a  friend,  for  I  am  your  friend 
and  the  friend   of  your  families."     Farther  than  this,  he  as- 


"  The  Farmer  Statesman."  35 

sured  them  that  if  they  had  been  wronged  in  any  way  he 
would  use  every  exertion  to  see  that  justice  was  done  them. 
Then  the  crowd  left  the  City  Hall  Square ;  and  from  that  day 
to  this  Horatio  Seymour  has  been  denounced  by  a  class  of  the 
community  for  "  holding  a  palaver  with  criminals,"  and  mak- 
ing "friends"  of  thieves,  cut-throats,  and  ruffians.  Governor 
Seymour  does  not  desire  to  reply  to  these  attacks.  In  vindi- 
cation of  his  course — if  such  vindication  be  necessary — he  sim- 
ply points  to  the  fact  that  in  forty-eight  hours  the  riots — un- 
doubtedly the  most  formidable  which  ever  occurred  on  this 
continent — were  checked  and  controlled  by  the  State  and  city 
authorities,  without  aid  from  the  general  Government.  In  or- 
der to  accomplish  this  result  it  was  necessary  for  the  law  offi- 
cers, acting  under  the  authority  of  the  Governor,  to  shoot  down 
nearly  a  thousand  of  the  rioters  whom  he  has  been  accused  of 
"  temporizing  "  with. 

Regarding  this  terrible  period  in  the  history  of  the  city 
Governor  Seymour  has  long  remained  silent ;  but,  touching 
the  manner  in  which  the  riots  were  suppressed,  he  now  au- 
thorizes the  following  statement,  which,  it  may  be  well  to  add, 
is  given  in  his  own  words : 

"The  draft  riots  of  1863  were  put  down  mainly  by  the  en- 
ergy, boldness,  and  skill  of  the  Police  Department.  In  saying 
this  I  am  certainly  not  influenced  by  prejudice,  for  the  force 
was  politically  and,  in  some  degree,  personally  unfriendly  to 
myself.  Indeed,  in  their  reports  they  have  not  seen  fit  to 
make  mention  of  any  co-operation  on  my  part  with  their  ef- 
forts. But  they  did  their  duty  bravely  and  efficiently.  They 
proved  that  the  city  of  New  York  could,  by  its  police  alone, 
in  the  absence  of  its  military  organizations,  cope  with  the  most 
formidable  disorders.  I  do  not  know  of  any  instance  in  his- 
tory where  so  many  desperate  men  were  shot  down  mainly  by 
the  police  of  a  city.  More  than  a  thousand  of  the  rioters  were 
killed  or  wounded  to  death.    Yet  so  little  justice  has  been  done 


36  Tioelve  Americans. 

to  the  city  of  New  York  that  many  think  it  was  protected  by 
the  forces  of  the  United  States.  In  fact,  the  Navy-yard,  the 
vast  amount  of  military  stores  of  the  general  Government,  and 
its  money  in  the  Sub-Treasury,  were  mainly  protected  by  the 
civil  officers — so  protected  while  the  military  organizations  of 
the  State  were  absent  in  Pennsylvania,  in  answer  to  an  appeal 
from  the  Government  of  the  United  States,  to  help  it  against 
an  invasion  of  General  Lee.  Even  General  Grant,  in  one  of 
his  papers,  speaks  of  the  riot  in  New  York  as  an  occasion  when 
the  general  Government  had  helped  State  or  local  authorities 
to  maintain  peace  and  order.  I  wrote  to  him  correcting  this 
error,  and  it  gives  me  pleasure  to  say  that  he  received  my 
communication  in  a  spirit  of  courtesy  and  of  fairness  which 
ever  marks  the  character  of  an  honorable  man.  It  is  now  time 
that  justice  should  be  done  the  city  of  New  York  in  this  mat- 
ter, and  in  the  hope  that  such  justice  may  be  done  I  repeat 
these  facts." 

Before  leaving  this  period  in  Governor  Seymour's  life  it 
will  be  well  to  add  that,  subsequent  to  the  riots,  Mr.  "Watson, 
then  Assistant  Secretary  of  War,  told  him  that  a  number  of 
prominent  men  had  made  application  to  the  national  Adminis- 
tration to  place  the  city  under  martial  law,  and  that  he  (Wat- 
son) was  sent  to  New  York  to  see  if  there  was  any  warrant  or 
necessity  for  such  action  ;  that  he  could  find  none,  and  had 
reported  to  the  department  that  Governor  Seymour  and  the 
civil  authorities  were  doing  everything  that  could  be  done  to 
keep  the  peace. 

IV. 
A   CANDIDATE   FOR   THE   PRESIDENCY. 

Of  Mr.  Seymour's  career  in  the  Executive  chair*  after  the 
riots,  and  of  his  action  in  regard  to   the  arrest  of  the  State 

*  During  the  legislative  session  of  1883  Governor  Seymour  wrote  to  Al- 
bany, asking  if  it  would  be  possible  for  him  to  purchase  from  the  State 


"The  Farmer  Statesman ."  37 

agents  and  the  suspension  of  newspapers  in  New  York  City, 
it  need  only  be  said  that  all  the  facts  are  already  before  the 
public.  As  his  term  of  office  drew  to  a  close  he  was  most 
anxious  to  retire  to  his  quiet  home  in  the  Valley  of  the  Mo- 
hawk, but  against  his  inclination  a  renomination  was  forced 
upon  him.  He  was  induced  to  accept  it  by  friends,  who 
urged  that  his  refusal,  coupled  with  the  fact  that  he  had  not 
favored  the  nomination  of  General  M'Clellan  in  the  National 
Democratic  Convention  of  1864,  over  which  he  had  presided, 
would  be  regarded  as  an  evidence  that  he  had  no  confidence  in 
that  gentleman's  ability  to  carry  the  country.  He 'went  into 
the  campaign  with  his  usual  energy,  but  was  defeated,  and, 
relinquishing  his  office  to  Reuben  E.  Fenton,  with  the  most 
sincere  wishes  for  his  successful  administration,  he  once  more 
retired  into  private  life.  He  still  continued  to  take  great  in- 
terest in  public  affairs,  however,  and  during  the  next  four  years 
frequently  appeared  in  meetings  and  conventions  of  the  De- 
mocracy. 

In  1868,  the  war  being  over,  and  the  reconstruction  of  the. 
recently  rebellious  States  commenced,  he  once  more  came  be- 
fore the  country  as  the  presiding  officer  of  the  memorable 
Democratic  Convention  then  held  in  New  York.  It  was  the 
duty  of  that  convention  to  nominate  for  the  Presidency  a  man 
who  could  defeat  the  candidate  of  the  victorious  and  exultant 
Republicans.  Mr.  Seymour  feared  that  no  "  straight-cut  "  Dem- 
ocrat was  equal  to  this  task,  nor  did  he  think  that  the  election 
of  such  a  man  would,  under  the  circumstances,  be  of  benefit 
to  his  party.  It  had  been  fully  demonstrated,  after  the  assas- 
sination of  Lincoln  and  during  the  Administration  of  Johnson, 
that,  without  a  Congress  at  his  back,  with  the  National  Senate 
overwhelmingly  Republican,  as  it  was,  no  Democrat  could  hope 

the  chair  he  had  occupied  while  he  was  Governor.  In  reply,  the  Legislat- 
ure, by  a  unanimous  vote,  passed  a  highly  complimentary  resolution  which 
provided  that  the  chair  be  presented  to  him. 


38  Twelve  Americans. 

to  accomplish  any  results  beneficial  to  his  political  friends. 
On  the  other  hand,  Mr.  Seymour  believed  that  the  advocacy 
by  the  Democracy  of  some  independent  Republican,  -who 
would  declare  in  favor  of  what  the  Democratic  speakers  then 
delighted  to  call  "  the  restoration  of  the  judicial  as  against  the 
military  power,"  would  result  in  success  and  benefit  to  them. 
For  these  reasons,  he  believed  that  Salmon  P.  Chase,  the  emi- 
nent Republican  jurist — who,  it  was  believed,  was  ready  to  de- 
sert his  party — should  be  nominated. 

Under  these  circumstances  the  convention  met,  and  for  near- 
ly a  week  balloted  in  vain  for  a  candidate.  The  delegates  were 
worn  out  with  the  continued  strain,  excitement,  and  intense 
heat,  but  still  no  one  received  votes  enough  to  be  declared  the 
nominee.  The  twenty-second  ballot  was  reached,  and  then  the 
great  meeting  was  startled  by  General  M'Cook,  the  chairman  of 
the  Ohio  delegation,  who,  in  a  speech  of  ringing  eloquence,  cast 
the  twenty-one  votes  of  his  State  for  Horatio  Seymour.  Cheer 
after  cheer  greeted  this  demonstration,  and  it  was  several  mo- 
ments before  Mr.  Seymour  could  be  heard.  At  last,  some  de- 
gree of  order  being  restored,  he  declared  in  the  most  unquali- 
fied terms  that  he  could  not  accept  the  nomination.  The 
delegates  would  not  take  this  refusal.  The  balloting  went  on. 
Wisconsin  changed  her  votes  to  Seymour,  and  then  the  end 
had  come.  Every  delegate  in  the  hall  sprang  to  his  feet. 
Maryland,  Illinois,  Texas,  Delaware,  Virginia,  Vermont,  Georgia, 
and  Louisiana  in  quick  succession  were  heard  changing  their 
votes  to  Seymour.  The  confusion  swelled  until  it  became  tu- 
mult worse  confounded.  Mr.  Seymour  protested  with  all  his 
might.  His  friends  at  first  begged,  and  at  last  almost  forced, 
him  to  leave  the  chair.  When  he  returned  the  voting  had 
been  completed,  the  ticket  made  up,  and  he  was  declared  to 
be  the  Democratic  candidate  for  the  Presidency  of  the  United 
States.  He  accepted  the  nomination,  and  by  doing  so  made, 
as  he  still  believes,  the  great  mistake  of  his  life.     Having  en- 


" The  Farmer  Statesman"  39 

tered  the  canvass,  however,  no  man  knew  that  he  was  dissatis- 
fied with  his  position.  He  worked  with  all  his  old-time  en- 
ergy and  enthusiasm.  Indeed,  until  the  Pennsylvania  election 
he  was  even  hopeful  of  the  result,  but  after  it  was  announced 
that  the  Keystone  State  was  Republican,  and  would  give  an 
overwhelming  majority  in  favor  of  General  Grant,  the  victo- 
rious soldier,  who  had  been  made  the  candidate  of  that  party, 
he  was  convinced  that  he  could  not  succeed,  and  devoted  all 
his  energies  to  saving  his  own  State.  To  do  this  it  was  neces- 
sary to  make  a  fight  along  the  whole  line,  and  he  went  into 
the  canvass  through  all  the  Northern  States.  The  campaign 
in  which  he  then  engaged  was  one  of  the  most  remarkable  in 
the  political  history  of  the  country.  His  personal  canvass  was 
more  thorough  and  far-reaching  than  that  made  by  any  candi- 
date for  the  Presidency  before  or  since,  but  all  his  efforts,  all 
the  efforts  of  his  friends,  were  in  vain.  His  defeat  was  com- 
plete— painfully  complete.  He  bore  it  like  the  wise  man  that 
he  is.  After  the  election,  when  President  Grant  visited  Utica 
Mr.  Seymour  was  one  of  the  first  to  congratulate  him,  and,  at 
a  public  reception,  said  good-humoredly  that  he  was  a  better 
soldier  than  the  General,  and  for  the  reason  that  he  was  not 
able  to  run  so  well. 

Immediately  after  his  defeat  Governor  Seymour  made  up  his 
mind  that  he  would  never  again  be  a  candidate  for  office,  and 
he  has  allowed  nothing  to  change  his  purpose.  He  might  have 
been  made  United  States  Senator  at  the  end  of  Mr.  Fenton's 
term  ;  but  he  declined  to  enter  the  canvass,  and  exerted  all  his 
influence  for  Senator  Kernan,  who,  singularly  enough,  was  one 
of  those  who  most  sincerely  desired  him  to  take  the  place. 
In  1876  the  Democratic  State  Convention,  against  his  earnest 
protest,  nominated  him  for  the  Governorship ;  but,  though 
well  assured  that  he  could  be  elected  by  a  majority  of  at  least 
30,000,  he  would  not  accept,  and  the  party  managers  were 
obliged  to  nominate  Governor  Robinson. 


40  Twelve  Americans. 

While  he  was  thus  determined  in  his  resolution  not  to  ac- 
cept office,  however,  he  continued  with  even  more  than  his 
usual  activity  to  take  part  in  the  affairs  of  his  State,  county* 
and  town.  Within  the  last  two  or  three  years  he  has  delivered 
more  than  a  score  of  addresses,  speaking  on  "  The  Topography 
of  Xew  York,"  "  The  Influence  of  Xew  York  on  American 
Jurisprudence,"  "  The  Use  of  Short  Words,"  "  The  Tramp  Nui- 
sance," "Dairy  Farms,"  "  The  Centennial  of  the  Cherry  Valley 
Massacre,"  "  Our  State  Prisons,"  and  many  other  subjects. . 

Xo  man  has  greater  faith  in  the  progress  and  future  of  the 
American  Republic  than  has  Horatio  Seymour.  It  is  related 
of  him  that,  some  years  since,  while  seated  at  a  public  dinner 
with  Lord  Houghton,  of  England,  that  gentleman  said  to  him, . 

"Governor  Seymour,  are  you  not  sometimes  sorry  that 
Mother  England  let  your  States  escape  from  under  her  wing?" 

"  Well,  no,  my  lord,  not  exactly,"  said  the  Governor,  with  a 
sly  twinkle  in  his  eye,  "but  I  do  sometimes  think  we  should 
not  have  allowed  you  to  leave  us !" 

"  What  in  the  world  do  you  mean  ?"  asked  his  lordship, 
laughing  good-humoredly,  but  evidently  a  little  astonished. 

"  Oh,  simply  that  it  would  be  rather  pleasant  to  have  you 
in  the  family  of  States,"  replied  the  Governor.  "  Having  fifty 
millions  of  people  on  our  side,  of  course  we  could  do  most  of 
the  governing.  Still,  for  the  sake  of  old  relationship,  I  have 
no  doubt  we  could  have  afforded  to  allow  you  a  few  extra 
Congressmen  and  a  Senator  or  two."  Lord  Houghton  caught 
the  spirit  of  the  joke,  and  seemed  to  enjoy  it  immensely. 

V. 
A   MOHAWK   VALLEY   HOME.— "NEVER  AGAIN." 

A  cextury  and  a  half  ago  Governor  Cosby,  one  of  the  Co- 
lonial rulers  of  Xew  York,  obtained  a  patent  for  twenty-four 
thousand  acres  of  land  in  the  Valley  of  the  Mohawk,  where 
the  city  of  U"tica  now  stands.     The  grant,  like  others  of  a 


"The  Farmer  Statesman."  41 

similar  character,  was  subject  to  certain  "  quit .7 rents,"  which 
were  reserved  to  the  Crown.  These  rents  remained  unpaid, 
and,  before  the  Revolution,  the  land  known  as  the  Cosby 
Manor  was  thrown  into  the  market.  General  Philip  Schuyler, 
for  himself  and  three  other  persons,  bought  it.  One  of  his  as- 
sociates in  the  purchase  was  Rutger  Bleecker,  an  ancestor  of 
the  lady  who  is  now  Mrs.  Horatio  Seymour.  An  estate  of  five 
hundred  acres,  once  a  part  of  the  manor,  is  still  in  her  posses- 
sion. It  is  situated  upon  a  slope  of  the  Deerfield  hills,  which 
rise  gently  on  the  northern  bank  of  the  Mohawk  River,  less 
than  three  miles  from  Utica.  The  crest  of  one  of  the  eleva- 
tions is  crowned  by  a  low  but  roomy,  unpretending  but  most 
comfortable,  two-story  cottage,  the  main  floor  of  which  is  al- 
most level  with  the  bright  green  lawn  that  stretches  on  one  side 
as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  and  on  the  other  is  lost  in  a  dark 
forest  of  old  and  mighty  trees.  From  the  broad  porch  of  this 
cottage,  looking  for  fifteen  miles  over  the  Valley  of  the  Mo- 
hawk, may  be  seen  the  pathway  over  which,  during  the  last 
half  century,  there  has  passed  the  greatest  movement  of  the 
human  race  the  world  has  ever  known — the  pathway  by  which 
the  people  of  Europe  have  found  their  way  into  our  great 
West — a  movement,  not  of  wild  hordes  or  of  great  armies,  but 
of  civilization  and  industry,  which  has  built  up  great  cities  in 
desert  places.  Beyond  the  valley,  over  on  the  other  side  of 
the  river,  rise  the  hills  which  formed  the  council-chamber,  the 
seat  of  government,  of  the  Iroquois,  the  great  confederacy 
which,  before  the  white  man  conquered,  held  control  of  the 
country  from  the  coast  to  the  Mississippi  and  the  Illinois,  from 
north  of  the  mighty  lakes  to  what  is  now  the  State  of  North 
Carolina.  But  not  only  this.  The  range  of  hills  which  are 
thus  seen  forms  one  of  the  most  remarkable  water-sheds  on  the 
face  of  the  earth — a  water-shed  from  whose  slopes  are  poured 
streams  which  find  outlets  in  the  tepid  waters  of  tropical  seas 
and  in  the  frozen  oceans  of  the  North. 


42  Twelve  Americans. 

The  modest  brown  cottage  so  situated  and  so  surrounded  is 
the  home  of  lloratio  Seymour.  Entering  it  on  a  summer 
morning,  the  master  of  the  house — strong,  keen-eyed,  and 
quick-witted,  in  spite  of  advancing  age — may  almost  invariably 
be  found  seated  in  a  quaint,  odd-cornered  library,  his  favorite 
room.  It  is  filled  with  books;  there  are  books,  papers,  and  maps 
innumerable.  Old  documents  and  deeds  relating  to  the  early 
history  of  Xew  York  hang  upon  the  wall,  one  of  them  testifying 
to  the  fact  that  George  Washington,  shrewd  business  man  that 
he  was,  speculated  in  Mohawk  Valley  lands  ;  while  another  very 
effectually  demolishes  Charles  Sumner's  theory,  that  Massachu- 
setts was  always  opposed  to  the  slave-trade,  by  setting  forth  that, 
in  the  year  of  grace  1711, "Coffee,  a  negro  man-slave,"  was  sold 
into  that  colony  from  New  York,  and  that  the  transfer  was  made 
"  in  the  name  of  God  and  the  Christian  religion."  Old  fire- 
arms, flint-locks,  swords,  and  powder-horns,  each  of  which  tells 
some  story  of  by -gone  days,  appear  in  stray  nooks.  The  office 
chair  for  many  years  used  by  Daniel  Webster — heavy,  com- 
fortable, and  black  with  age  —  stands  in  front  of  the  roomy 
table  which  serves  as  a  desk ;  and  in  an  out-of-the-way  corner, 
between  two  tall  windows,  a  great  Dutch  clock,  evidently  an 
old  family  relic,  gives  warning  of  the  passing  hours.  It  was  in 
this  library — opening  on  a  charmingly-appointed  sitting-room, 
in  which  the  gracious  and  winning  wife  of  the  veteran  states- 
man spends  most  of  her  time — that  Horatio  Seymour  gave  me 
material  for  the  story  of  his  life. 

"And  during  all  these  years  and  through  all  these  struggles 
have  you  had  any  one  aim  or  end  in  view  V  I  asked  the  Gov- 
ernor when  he  had  finished  the  recital.  His  ready  response 
was, 

"Yes;  yes,  indeed,  and  if  you  like  I  will  tell  you  just  what 
it  has  been." 

"  I  should  like  very  much  to  hear,"  was,  of  course,  my  reply, 
and  he  went  on  : 


" The  Farmer  Statesman"  43 

"  I  have  aimed  to  take  an  interest  in  everything  in  this 
world  with  which  I  had  a  right  to  concern  myself. 

"  During  a  long  life  I  have  learned  that  people  who  have 
the  happiest  and  healthiest  minds  take  an  active  part  in  every- 
thing which  concerns  their  community,  their  State,  or  the 
country  at  large. 

"A  proper  interest  and  sympathy  for  others  gives  men  vig- 
orous minds  and  a  broad  view,  while  selfish  views  tend  to  con- 
tract even  great  intellects. 

"  A  thoroughly  selfish  man  must,  in  the  end,  be  a  thorough- 
ly unhappy  one. 

"  The  study  of  men  has  taught  me  still  another  great  truth. 
It  is  that,  while  their  conditions  as  to  wealth,  the  characters  of 
their  homes  and  surroundings,  are  very  different,  the  variety  of 
worlds  they  live  in  is  still  more  varied. 

"  Money  may  fix  the  character  of  a  man's  house,  but  only 
intelligence  and  culture  can  give  beauty  and  interest  to  the 
sphere  or  world  in  which  he  passes  his  life. 

"  Every  single  object  on  this  earth  is  of  value  to  those  who 
know  its  character,  its  history,  and  its  use,  while  those  who  are 
ignorant  of  these  things  take  no  interest  even  in  the  choicest 
productions  of  nature. 

"  To  one  man  the  heavens  are  filled  with  great  systems  of 
mighty  worlds.  To  another  the  skies  are  simply  so  much  blue 
space  dotted  with  bright,  but  to  them  meaningless,  points  of 
light.  To  one  the  earth  is  an  exhaustless  museum,  giving  end- 
less subjects  for  study,  thought,  and  happiness ;  to  another  it 
is  simply  a  clod  in  which  to  grow  potatoes  and  cabbages. 

"Appreciating  and  acting  on  these  familiar  truths,  I  decided 
at  an  early  age  to  take  an  active  interest  in  everything  that 
concerned  the  general  welfare,  and,  above  all,  to  keep  my  mind 
vigorous  and  sympathetic. 

"  I  determined  to  learn  something,  no  matter  how  little, 
regarding  every  object  or  subject  which  came  under  my  notice. 


44  Twelve  Americans. 

"  I  did  not  seek  to  be  learned  in  a  high  degree  with  regard 
to  any  of  these  things,  but  I  did  seek,  from  my  own  labor  and 
the  labor  of  others,  to  gain  a  reasonably  clear  conception  of  the 
progress  of  science  and  the  ends  it  had  gained. 

"  I  believed  that  by  doing  so,  while  life  lasted,  no  matter 
what  change  of  health  or  fortune  came,  I  would  be  able  to  find 
some  subject  or  object  in  the  world  by  which  I  might  be 
interested  and  rendered  content." 

For  several  moments  after  he  said  this  Governor  Seymour 
remained  silent.  Then  I  asked, ."  Governor,  do  you  think  that 
the  people  of  the  United  States  are  losing  interest  in  political 
affairs  ?" 

"  No,"  he  replied,  with  much  emphasis.  "  No ;  to  the 
American  people,  to  the  men  of  the  country  districts,  at  least, 
political  duty  will  always  be  regarded  as  one  which  must  be 
performed. 

"  There  may  be  in  the  large  cities  men  who,  because  of  busi- 
ness connections,  fail  to  do  the  service  which  the  State  has  a 
right  to  expect  from  them,  but  in  the  country,  where  the 
masses  of  the  voters  live,  politics  will  always  be,  to  a  great 
extent,  sentimental. 

"In  short,  the  love  for  party  in  the  average  citizen  of  this 
country  will  always  be  a  sentiment — a  sentiment  which  can  no 
more  be  eradicated  than  can  a  belief  in  religion. 

"  The  leaders  of  to-day  are  so  unduly  secretive,  suspicious, 
and,  as  they  believe,  diplomatic,  that  they  fail  to  attract  to 
them  that  personal  following  which  was  given  to  men  like 
Calhoun  and  Clay,  but  to  their  parties  our  people  will  forever 
cling." 

Regarding  the  system  of  human  slavery  which  was  over- 
thrown by  the  war,  Governor  Seymour  has  thought  deeply. 
During  one  of  our  conversations  he  said : 

"  The  system  of  slavery  as  it  existed  in  the  South  was  up- 
held by  three  parties — the  planters,  the  Aveavers,  and  the  wTear- 


41  The  Farmer  Statesman."  45 

ers  of  cotton.  Two  of  the  parties  lived  at  the  North  and  one 
at  the  South.  That  the  system  would  die  out  rapidly  at  the 
South,  as  it  had  at  the  North,  I  believed  and  still  believe.  It 
could  never  have  sustained  itself  when  the  supply  of  cotton 
was  equal  to  the  natural  demand.  For  some  time  before  the 
war,  slaves  had  productive  value  in  only  five  States.  These 
kept  up  a  market  value  in  the  other  sections.  This  fact  of 
itself  tended  to  destroy  slavery,  for  it  carried  the  negroes  into 
the  Gulf  States,  and  lessened  the  value  of  laborers.  The  peo- 
ple of  the  far  South  knew  this  so  well  that  laws  were  passed 
there  prohibiting  the  introduction  of  slaves.  In  this  way  it 
was  hoped  that  their  value  might  be  kept  up. 

"  It  is  now  well  understood  that  the  negroes,  though  the 
war  checked  their  progress,  are  so  numerous  that  Southern 
planters  could  not  afford  to  own  them. 

"  The  sentiment  of  hostility  to  slavery  was  a  just  one,  but 
sentiments  alone  are  not  sufficient  to  guide  men.  An  incident 
in  my  own  career  will  illustrate  this. 

"  During  my  term  as  Governor  I  was  very  anxious  that  my 
first  pardon  should  be  right  beyond  question.  Even  while  I 
was  thinking  on  the  subject  I  received  a  letter  from  the  officers 
of  one  of  our  prisons,  which  stated  that  a  negro  convict  had 
been  confined  in  their  institution  for  more  than  twenty  years ; 
that  his  conduct  had  been  good  in  all  respects ;  that  he  had 
made  himself  useful  in  many  ways;  and  that  they  placed  full 
confidence  in  him.  His  time  was  soon  to  expire,  and  they 
asked  that  he  be  granted  a  pardon,  a  certificate  of  good  con- 
duct, which  would  help  him  when  he  was  again  out  in  the 
world. 

"  I  knew  of  none  who  could  show  a  better  record  for  so 
long  a  time,  and  I  granted  the  pardon.  For  a  week  I  thought 
over  the  matter,  and  was  satisfied  with  what  I  had  done.  At 
the  end  of  that  time,  however,  what  was  my  surprise  to  re- 
ceive from  the  pardoned  convict  a  letter,  in  which  he  said  that 


46  Twelve  Americans. 

for  more  than  twenty  years  he  had  lived  in  the  State  Prison, 
and  had  tried  to  do  his  duty !  Such  being  the  case,  he  wanted 
to  know  why  the  Governor  had  turned  him  out  at  the  begin- 
ning of  winter  to  starve  and  freeze,  when,  if  he  had  been  let 
alone  until  summer,  he  could  have  taken  care  of  himself. 

"This  incident  taught  me  the  great  lesson  that  mere  senti- 
ment, however  virtuous,  without  care  and  wisdom,  may  at  times 
do  more  harm  than  good. 

"  But,  whatever  the  errors  of  the  past  may  have  been,  it  is 
now  clearly  the  duty  of  all  our  people  to  do  their  best  to  im- 
prove the  condition  of  the  negroes  in  the  United  States.  Not 
only  justice  and  humanity,  but  the  prosperity  of  the  country, 
particularly  of  the  South,  call  for  the  highest  possible  develop- 
ment of  their  intelligence,  their  morals,  their  social  condition, 
and  material  prosperity." 

As  has  already  been  stated,  Horatio  Seymour  and  William  L. 
Marcy  were  warm  friends.  When  Mr.  Marcy  left  the  office  of 
Secretary  of  State,  at  the  close  of  President  Pierce's  Adminis- 
tration, he  sent  for  Governor  Seymour.  He  was  an  old  man, 
and  wished  to  consult,  as  to  the  future,  with  his  younger  asso- 
ciate. It  may  be  that  he  knew  he  was  on  the  brink  of  the 
grave.  When  his  friend  came  to  him,  at  his  home,  he  greeted 
him  with  much  cordiality,  but  with  a  solemnity  which  was  not 
usual  with  him.  Then,  apparently  as  if  carrying  out  a  long- 
cherished  purpose,  he  began  to  recite  the  important  incidents 
in  his  long  and  busy  career.  He  told  eloquently  of  his  strug- 
gles at  the  outset  to  gain  a  standing  in  his  profession,  related 
how  he  had  been  advanced  to  the  office  of  Judge,  to  the  Gov- 
ernorship of  his  State,  to  the  Senate  of  the  United  States,  and 
to  positions  in  the  Cabinets  of  Presidents  Polk  and  Pierce. 
Then  he  continued : 

"  Mr.  Seymour,  in  this  long  life  I  have  had  many  problems 
to  solve,  but  I  am  now  called  upon  to  meet  one  which  troubles 
and  perplexes  me  more  than  any  that  have  gone  before.     That 


"  The  Farmer  Statesman"  47 

problem  is  how  to  leave  the  stage  of  public  action  with  dig- 
nity, and  yet  in  a  way  that  will  not  show  an  indifference  to 
the  interests  of  the  country,  to  the  party,  or  to  my  friends.  I 
do  not  wish  to  hang  about  the  stage  like  a  superannuated 
actor,  nor  would  I  seem  to  turn  my  back  on  the  world  after  I 
have  had  all  the  honors  I  can  expect  from  it." 

In  a  few  days  an  all-ruling  Providence  solved  this  problem 
for  William  L.  Marcy.  While  apparently  in  the  best  of 
health,  lying  upon  a  sofa,  turning  over  the  leaves  of  a  book, 
his  heart  ceased  to  beat. 

Referring  to  his  last  conversation  with  Mr.  Marcy,  Governor 
Seymour  said  to  me  : 

"  That  last  interview  with  the  good,  great  man  who  had 
been  my  life-long  friend  impressed  me  deeply.  I  then  made 
up  my  mind  that  no  man  should  cheat  himself  out  of  the  re- 
pose of  his  old  age.  In  his  last  days,  if  his  life  had  not  been 
a  barren  one,  it  seemed  to  me  that  every  man  should  have 
much  to  think  of ;  that  he  should  devote  himself  to  such 
thought  and  to  such  usefulness  in  his  private  circle  as  he 
might  be  fitted  for.  It  is  for  these  reasons  that  I  have  re- 
fused in  my  age  to  accept  public  station.  WThen  I  see  totter- 
ing old  men,  upon  the  brink  of  the  grave,  engaged  in  an  un- 
seemly scramble  for  office,  I  am  always  reminded  of  Holbein's 
picture  of  'The  Dance  of  Death.'  It  shall  never  be  said  of 
me  that  I  took  part  in  such  a  cotillion.  I  shall  never  be  a 
figure  in  such  a  picture." 

And  from  the  determination  thus  formed  Iloratio  Seymour 
never  departed. 


A  Descendant  of  Presidents. 


CHARLES    FRANCIS    ADAMS, 


A  Descendant  of  Presidents. 


CHARLES  FRANCIS  ADAMS. 


A   MASSACHUSETTS  LIBRARY. 

On  a  broad,  cool  highway,  half  city  street,  half  country  road, 
in  the  prim,  ancient,  and  cultured  town  of  Quincy,  in  Massa- 
chusetts, there  stands  a  commodious  family  mansion,  remarka- 
ble for  its  severe  simplicity,  the  obvious  solidity  of  its  con- 
struction, and  the  great  beauty  of  the  old  trees  by  which  it 
is  surrounded.  To  the  left  of  this  house,  and  only  separated 
from  it  by  a  well-kept  gravel  walk  and  tall  hedges  of  careful- 
ly-clipped box-wood,  there  is  visible  a  second  structure,  which, 
at  first  sight,  is  a  puzzle  to  the  casual  visitor.  It  is  built  of 
dark-gray  stone.  Massive  walls  support  the  semi-Gothic  roof. 
No  wood-work  is  to  be  seen.  The  whole  structure  is  at  first 
suggestive  of  the  time  when  Luther  defied  the  devil  in  the 
stone  chamber  of  the  Wartburg.  A  nearer  view  gives  a  dif- 
ferent impression  of  it.  The  bright  sunshine  which  breaks 
through  the  overhanging  trees,  and  lights  up  its  lofty  win- 
dows, at  the  same  time  dispels  all  thought  of  "the  days  that 
are  gone."  Viewed  in  this  new  light,  the  building  could  never 
be  mistaken  for  a  monkish  retreat.  Still,  it  might  easily  be 
looked  upon  as  a  newly-erected  chapel  in  some  remote  English 
parish.  But,  as  the  visitor  approaches  nearer,  this  illusion  is 
dispelled,  like  the  rest,  and  upon  entering  a  broad,  oaken  door- 
way—  which,  on  summer  evenings,  is  almost  invariably  wide 

3 


50  Twelve  Americans. 

open — it  at  once  becomes  evident  that  the  building  serves,  not 
as  a  shelter  for  some  religious  recluse,  not  as  a  place  of  wor- 
ship for  a  select  congregation  in  the  interior  of  England,  but 
as  the  library  of  a  deeply  and  widely  read  American  gentle- 
man. One  long,  lofty  apartment  comprises  the  whole  build- 
ing. The  walls  of  this  room  are  lined  in  every  direction  with 
bookcases,  of  some  hard,  heavy  wood,  laden  with  bound  vol- 
umes and  manuscripts,  which  bear  evidence  of  having  been 
collected  in  many  lands.  The  list  of  works  on  American  his- 
tory is  particularly  complete,  and  records  of  the  United  States 
Government  appear  more  frequently  than  books  of  any  other 
class.  An  immense  oaken  table  occupies  the  middle  of  the 
library,  and  extends  nearly  its  entire  length,  bearing  a  pro- 
fusion of  magazines,  pamphlets,  and  sheets  of  manuscript ; 
while  in  the  corners  of  the  room  are  numerous  maps,  globes, 
and  scientific  instruments. 

Entering  the  gray  stone  building  which  is  thus  furnished, 
the  visitor,  on  almost  any  summer  evening,  will  find,  seated  at 
the  great  oaken  table,  surrounded  by  books,  looking  out  upon 
a  broad  expanse  of  bright -green  lawn,  which  is  dotted  here 
and  there  with  clumps  of  mighty  old  trees,  a  strong,  yet  deli- 
cately-formed, gentleman,  who  gives  but  few  evidences  of  the 
fact  that  he  has  passed  his  seventieth  year.  He  is  dressed 
with  scrupulous  neatness  and  great  simplicity,  is  obviously  a 
student,  of  retiring  disposition  ;  and  having  a  deep-seated  aver- 
sion to  the  rush  and  scramble  of  American  political  life,  he 
gives,  to  those  who  know  him  but  slightly,  still  fewer  evi- 
dences of  being  a  man  whose  name  has  for  generations  been 
woven  into  the  history  of  the  United  States,  who  has  well  filled 
many  high  places  of  trust,  and  whose  ancestors  honored  the 
highest  position  in  the  land.  Such  distinction,  however,  may 
well  be  claimed  for  him. 

The  gentleman  whom  I  found  seated  as  I  have  described, 
the  master  of  the  old  mansion  and  the  library  at  Quincy,  was 


A  Descendant  of  Presidents.  5 1 

Charles  Francis  Adams,  the  son  of  John  Quincy  Adams,  and 
the  grandson  of  John  Adams,  both  of  whom  may  be  named 
among  the  most  eminent  Presidents  of  the  United  States. 
The  quaint  and  picturesque  structure  in  -which  he  spends  most 
of  his  time  was  erected  especially  for  the  reception  of  the 
twelve  thousand  books  bequeathed  to  him  by  his  father,  one 
of  the  terms  of  the  bequest  being  that  they  should  be  placed 
in  a  fire-proof  building. 

In  1809,  when  Charles  Francis  Adams  was  two  years  old — 
he  having  been  born  in  Boston,  in  1807 — his  father  was  appoint- 
ed United  States  Minister  to  Russia,  and  took  his  infant  son  to 
St.  Petersburg  with  him.  While  there  the  boy,  who  at  a  re- 
markably early  age  developed  what  grew  into  almost  a  passion 
for  study,  was  placed  under  the  care  of  masters,  who  soon 
taught  him  to  understand  thoroughly  and  speak  fluently  the 
German,  French,  and  Russian  languages ;  all  these  being  in 
addition  to  his  native  tongue.  Tins  course,  as  Mr.  Adams 
now  believes,  was  not  a  wise  one.  It  resulted,  to  a  very  great 
extent,  in  confusing  his  mind,  and,  as  the  event  proved,  led  to 
no  practical  good  which  might  not  have  been  obtained  by  oth- 
er methods;  for,  though  he  still  possesses  a  very  good  knowl- 
edge of  French,  he  was  never  able,  in  after-life,  to  make  any 
use  of  the  German  and  Russian  which  he  had  learned,  and  he 
has  now  forgotten  all  that  he  once  knew  of  those  languages. 

After  spending  some  years  in  St.  Petersburg  his  father  was 
transferred  to  the  Court  of  St.  James's,  and  he  was  removed 
from  the  care  of  his  Russian  masters  and  placed  in  a  school 
of  the  highest  reputation  in  a  suburb  of  London.  Here  his 
course  of  study  was  necessarily  completely  changed,  and  ac- 
cording to  his  own  mature  judgment,  frequently  expressed,  he 
returned  to  America  in  his  tenth  year  very  little  improved  by 
his  schooling  abroad,  having  no  settled  plan  of  study,  and  with- 
out having  as  yet  developed  any  of  that  aptitude  for  untiring 
application  to  one  subject  which  became  one  of  his  distinguish- 


52  Twelve  Americans. 

ing  traits  in  after  years.  Even  in  Lis  childhood,  however,  he 
was  a  close,  keen,  and  shrewd  observer  of  the  manners  and 
habits  of  the  people  among  whom  he  was  thrown ;  and  it  has 
been  suggested,  with  some  plausibility,  that  the  early  impres- 
sions which  he  received  in  England,  tended  largely  to  form  his 
character,  gave  him  a  greater  insight  into  the  prejudices  and 
modes  of  thought  of  the  British  people  than  he  could  other- 
wise have  had,  and  did  much  to  fit  him  for  the  position  of 
United  States  Minister  to  the  Court  of  St.  James's,  which  he 
afterward  filled  to  his  own  credit  and  the  great  advantage  of 
his  Government.  It  is  related  that  during  his  attendance  at 
the  English  school  he  was  called  upon  to  defend  his  country 
against  unjust  attacks  by  his  fellow-scholars,  and  that  he  did 
so  not  only  in  strong  words,  but  with  the  hardest  blows  his 
boyish  fists  could  deal. 

When  he  returned  to  America,  at  the  close  of  his  father's 
mission  abroad,  he  was  placed  in  the  Boston  Latin  School,  and, 
as  he  himself  believes  and  in  private  conversation  states,  it  was 
while  attending  that  institution  that  he  obtained  the  substan- 
tial rudimentary  education  which  formed  the  basis  of  the  ex- 
tensive and  varied  knowledge  he  subsequently  acquired.  In 
this  school  he  continued  until  he  was  fitted  for  Harvard  Col- 
lege, from  which  institution  he  graduated  in  1825,  the  year  in 
which  his  father  entered  upon  the  Presidency.  Then  he  went 
to  Washington,  and,  under  his  father's  direction,  began  the 
study  of  law,  at  the  same  time  having  the  best  opportunity  of 
becoming  intimately  acquainted  with  the  most  distinguished 
men  of  the  day,  of  listening  to  the  great  debates  then  progress- 
ing in  Congress,  and  learning  the  principles  upon  which  his 
country  was  governed. 


A  Descendant  of  Presidents.  53 


II. 

WASHINGTON  IN  THE  OLDEN  TIME. 

Of  this  period  in  his  life  Mr.  Adams  cherishes  the  most  in- 
teresting recollections.  Young,  well-read,  observing,  sensitive, 
and  impressible,  everything  he  saw  was  novel  to  him,  and 
there  can  be  no  doubt  that  his  sojourn  in  the  capital,  and  his 
association  with  the  dignified  but  simple  and  unaffected  states- 
men of  the  time,  did  much  to  mould  his  ideas  of  what  be- 
comes a  public  servant. 

At  the  time  in  question  Washington  was  very  little  better 
than  a  village ;  and,  as  the  means  of  transportation  were  very 
limited,  Senators  and  members  of  the  lower  House  were  not  in 
the  habit  of  bringing  their  families  to  the  capital  with  them. 
In  consequence,  the  seat  of  Government  even  in  winter  was 
anything  but  a  social  centre;  and  in  summer,  during  the  re- 
cesses of  Congress,  the  families  of  the  President  and  other 
officers  who  were  obliged  to  remain  at  their  posts  during  the 
entire  year,  being  thrown  upon  their  own  resources  for  amuse- 
ment, were  often  at  a  loss  to  know  how  to  pass  the  time. 
Under  such  circumstances  it  can  well  be  imagined  that  the 
announcement  of  a  visit  from  Lafayette,  the  gallant  Frenchman 
who  had  helped  the  American  Colonies  to  become  a  nation, 
created  no  little  excitement  in  Washington  society.  Even  the 
occupants  of  the  White  House — which  was  then  anything  but 
the  lordly  mansion  it  has  since  become — anticipated  the  arrival 
of  the  distinguished  guest  as  an  event  for  which  many  prepa- 
rations would  have  to  be  made,  and  the  servants  of  the  house- 
hold were  almost  at  their  wits'  end  to  make  brighter  the  old 
furniture  and  dull  paint  of  the  dwelling  which  the  people  of 
the  United  States  then  believed  to  be  quite  good  enough  for 
their  chief  magistrate. 

At  last  the  great  day  arrived.    All  Washington  was  abroad  to 


54  Twelve  Americans. 

see  and  welcome  the  guest  of  the  nation,  and  when  he  alight- 
ed at  the  "White  House,  he  was  cheered  by  such  a  crowd,  as,  at 
that  time,  had  seldom  been  seen  in  the  streets  of  the  capital. 

In  the  evening  there  was  a  reception  given  by  the  President, 
and,  as  was  the  custom,  every  citizen  of  the  United  States,  or 
other  person  of  respectable  appearance,  was  freely  admitted 
and  welcomed  by  President  Adams  himself,  who,  upon  such 
occasions,  is  described  as  having  been  the  most  agreeable  and 
entertaining  of  men.  The  Marquis  de  Lafayette  was  exceed- 
ingly well  pleased  with  the  reception  and  entertainment  given 
him,  and  expressed  particular  pleasure  at  the  great  progress 
which  the  young  Republic  had  made  since  his  early  visit  to  it. 
Charles  Francis  Adams  and  his  brother  he  seemed  to  regard 
with  particular  favor,  and  in  the  evening,  when  he  could  do  so 
without  attracting  marked  attention,  he  found  an  opportunity 
of  privately  saying  as  much  to  their  mother,  a  lady  of  great 
good-sense  and  affability  of  manner.  "  But,  madame,"  said  he, 
hesitating  for  a  moment — "  but,  madame — " 

"  Well,  sir,  well  ?"  she  said,  reassuringly,  and  he,  still  some- 
what embarrassed,  continued : 

"  Well,  madame,  the  truth  is,  I  admire  your  sons  very 
much ;  but  you  remember  that  their  grandfather  was  the 
President,  and  that  their  father  is  now  President  of  the  United 
States  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir.  Yes,  of  course,"  replied  Mrs.  Adams,  greatly  at 
a  loss  to  know  what  the  Marquis  was  coming  to,  asd  he,  talk- 
ing rapidly,  as  if  to  relieve  his  mind,  went  on  : 

"Well,  then,  remembering  all  this  —  remembering  all  the 
temptations  of  ambition  to  which  they  are  not  only  liable  but, 
indeed,  subjected,  I  beg  you  to  impress  upon  their  minds  that 
they  must  not  expect  to  succeed  their  father  and  grandfather 
unless  they  do  so  at  the  call  of  the  people." 

Mrs.  Adams  laughingly  assured  him  that  she  would  do  as 
he  desired  ;  but  it  was  evident,  when  he  left  the  White  House, 


A  Descendant  of  Presidents.  5  5 

that  be  still  feared  the  nation  might  in  after  years  be  en- 
dangered by  the  aspirations  of  the  young  Adamses.  To  this 
day  Charles  Francis  Adams,  the  least  ambitious  of  men  and  a 
sincere  lover  of  his  country,  refers  to  the  anxiety  of  the  good 
Marquis  as  not  at  all  a  bad  joke. 

As  has  already  been  stated,  Washington  during  the  time  of 
John  Quincy  Adams  was,  as  compared  to  the  gay  and  beauti- 
ful city  of  to-day,  an  exceedingly  primitive  and  uninviting 
place.  Still,  it  was  not  free  from  those  nice  little  social  dis- 
turbances which  even  now  frequently  agitate  what  may  be 
called  the  official  society  of  the  capital.  •  When  Mr.  Adams, 
before  his  election  to  the  Presidency,  accepted  the  position  of 
Secretary  of  State,  he  established  himself  in  one  of  the  most 
commodious  residences  he  could  find,  fitted  it  up  in  a  style 
suggested  by  the  good  taste  of  his  excellent  wife,  and  at  all 
times  warmly  welcomed  his  friends  and  acquaintances.  He 
had  not  been  long  in  the  city,  however,  when  he  discovered 
that  the  Senators  and  Justices  of  the  Supreme  Court,  Avho  did 
not  happen  to  be  his  intimate  personal  friends,  never  called 
upon  him.  At  first  he  paid  no  attention  to  the  matter,  but 
little  by  little,  from  a  casual  word  dropped  here  and  there,  he 
discovered  that  the  Justices  and  Senators,  holding  that  in  all 
social  matters  they  took  precedence  of  Cabinet  officers,  were 
highly  indignant  that  he  and  Mrs.  Adams  had  not  made  the 
first  formal  call  upon  them  and  their  families,  and  vowed  that 
until  what  they  regarded  as  the  rights  belonging  to  their  posi- 
tions had  been  accorded  them,  they  would  never  darken  the 
door  of  the  Secretary  of  State.  Mr.  Adams  was  not  at  all  dis- 
turbed by  this  determination  ;  if  they  could  be  happy  without 
the  society  of  himself  and  his  family,  he  had  no  doubt  that 
he  would  be  very  well  able  to  survive  without  seeing  them, 
and  so  for  a  time  the  matter  rested.  But  the  Justices  and 
Senators  were  not  content.  It  is  just  possible  that'  they  saw 
they  were  making  fools  of  themselves,  and  that  the  knowledge 


56  Twelve  Americans. 

did  not  sweeten  their  tempers.  At  all  events,  they  began  to 
complain  on  all  sides,  and  to  the  President,  among  others,  that 
they  had  been  grossly  offended  by  the  Secretary  of  State. 
Sides  for  and  against  Mr.  Adams  were  taken,  and  soon  all 
Washington  was  engaged  in  what  subsequently  became  known 
as  "  the  etiquette  war,"  a  controversy  which  at  one  time  threat- 
ened to  seriously  interfere,  not  only  with  the  personal  but  also 
with  the  political  relations  of  many  of  the  most  prominent 
men  in  the  country.  Seeing  that  the  affair  had  taken  this 
grave  turn,  the  Secretary  wrote  a  very  good-natured  but  at 
the  same  time  a  most  straightforward  and  sensible  letter  re- 
garding it.  He  stated,  in  substance,  that  he  looked  upon  the 
whole  dispute — a  dispute  widen  was  certainly  not  of  his  mak- 
ing— as  an  -exceedingly  ridiculous  one.  He  farther  added, 
that  whenever  he  desired  to  make  either  a  social  or  business 
call  on  a  Justice  of  the  Supreme  Court,  a  Senator  of  the  Unit- 
ed States,  or  their  families,  he  should  do  so  without  farther 
ceremony  than  was  necessary,  and  without  waiting  to  inquire 
whether  they  had  first  called  upon  himself  and  Mrs.  Adams. 
In  conclusion,  he  pointedly  intimated  that  he  hoped  they 
would  have  the  good  -  sense  to  take  the  same  course.  This 
certainly  could  not  be  regarded  as  a  concession,  but  it  seemed 
to  satisfy  the  complaining  officers.  The  Adams  mansion  was 
justly  regarded  as  one  of  the  most  hospitable  houses  in  "Wash- 
ington. The  wives  and  daughters  of  the  Justices  and  Senators 
had  for  a  long  time  been  most  anxious  to  attend  the  charming 
receptions  and  evening  parties  given  by  Mrs.  Adams,  and,  put- 
ting their  pride  in  their  pockets,  they  made  the  regulation  calls, 
received  the  invitations  they  so  much  coveted,  and  "  the  eti- 
quette war  "  thus  came  to  a  happy  end. 

After  spending  two  years  in  "Washington,  acquiring  what 
was  in  those  days  regarded  as  a  good  knowledge  of  the  law, 
with  much  general  information  of  value,  Charles  Francis  Adams 
returned  to  Boston,  and  entering  the  law  office  of  Daniel  "Web- 


A  Descendant  of  Presidents.  57 

ster,  completed  his  studies,  and  at  the  end  of  another  year  was 
admitted  to  the  Bar.  At  about  the  same  time  (in  his  twenty- 
second  year)  he  married  the  daughter  of  Mr.  Peter  C.  Broolcs, 
a  distinguished  citizen  of  Boston,  and  one  of  the  largest  capi- 
talists in  the  country.  Because  of  this  marriage,  and  for  other 
reasons,  he  did  not  engage  actively  in  the  practice  of  his  pro- 
fession, and  he  has  never  since  done  so. 

In  the  year  which  followed  his  admission  to  the  Bar,  his 
father  from  time  to  time  suggested  to  him  the  propriety  of 
seeking  political  preferment ;  but  from  the  first  he  displayed 
the  greatest  disinclination  to  follow  the  advice  so  conveyed, 
and  for  more  than  ten  years  he  lived  a  life  of  the  utmost 
retirement,  devoting  himself  entirely  to  study  and  to  writing 
occasional  articles  for  the  North  American  Hevieiv,  then  a  most 
influential  periodical,  and  for  other  magazines  and  newspapers. 
It  is  worthy  of  note  that  in  a  pamphlet  prepared  during  this 
period  Mr.  Adams  discussed  with  great  care  the  question  of 
whether  or  not  the  President  had  constitutional  power  to  re- 
move Federal  office-holders  without  the  consent  of  the  Senate. 
Years  afterward,  when  he  was  himself  named  prominently  in 
connection  with  the  Presidency,  it  will  be  remembered  that 
the  same  question  attracted,  as  it  did  then,  a  great  deal  of 
public  attention.  At  that  time,  however,  he  had  no  idea  that 
he  would  ever  hold  a  political  position.  Indeed,  it  is  known 
that,  on  more  than  one  occasion  in  early  life,  he  expressed  a 
determination  never  to  go  into  active  politics. 

He  could  not  carry  out  his  wishes  in  this  direction.  It  was 
not  ordained  that  the  son  of  John  Quincy  Adams,  the  grand- 
son of  John  Adams,  a  man  in  whose  veins  flowed  the  blood  of 
old  John  Quincy,  should  take  no  part  in  the  Government  of 
the  American  Republic. 

In  1840,  when  he  was  thirty-three  years  of  age,  a  delegation 

of  his  fellow-townsmen  waited  upon  him,  and,  through  their 

spokesman,  a  gentleman  of  some  consequence,  tendered  him  a 

3* 


58  Twelve  Americans. 

nomination  to  the  State  Legislature.  His  courteous  but  direct 
and  unequivocal  reply  was, 

"  I  thank  you,  gentlemen,  but  I  cannot  consent  to  be  a 
candidate  for  any  office." 

"  You  can  be  elected  without  trouble,"  urged  the  members 
of  the  delegation. 

"But  still  I  cannot  consent,"  replied  Mr.  Adams. 

"  Your  services  are  needed  in  the  Legislature,"  again  urged 
the  committeemen. 

"  You  can  find  men  much  more  competent  to  fill  the  place," 
was  the  reply ;  and  the  delegation  retired  in  despair. 

When  the  ex-President  heard  of  what  his  son  had  done  he 
was  very  much  annoyed,  and  assuring  his  wife,  as  he  had  often 
done  before,  that  Charles  was  cut  out  for  a  hermit,  and  if  left 
to  himself  would  spend  his  life  in  a  wilderness,  went  to  see 
him. 

"  I  hear  you  have  refused  a  nomination  for  the  Legislature," 
he  said,  at  once  making  known  the  business  upon  which  he 
had  come. 

"  Yes,"  replied  his  son,  who  attached  no  importance  to  the 
matter. 

"  I  am  very,  very  sorry  that  you  have  done  so,"  continued 
his  father. 

"  Why,  sir?"  asked  the  young  man. 

"  Because  the  Legislature  is  the  stepping-stone  to  political 
preferment;  because  it  is  your  duty  as  an  American  citizen 
always  to  serve  your  State  or  country  when  called  upon  to  do 
so."  " 

"  Oh,  well,  if  you  regard  the  matter  in  that  light,"  replied 
Mr.  Adams,  in  his  own  cool,  quiet  way,  and  just  a  little  amused 
at  the  earnestness  of  his  father,  "  I  will  promise  to  consent  the 
next  time  I  am  asked." 

"  You  may  not  be  asked  again,"  rejoined  his  father.  But 
he  was  mistaken. 


A  Descendant  of  Presidents.  59 

The  next  year  Mr.  Adams  was  again  invited  to  be  a  can- 
didate for  the  Legislature.  Remembering  his  promise  to  his 
father,  he  accepted  the  Whig  nomination,  and  was  elected. 

Entering  public  life  in  this  way,  very  much  against  his  own 
inclination,  and  to  oblige  his  father,  more  than  with  any  desire 
for  personal  advancement,  it  might  naturally  have  been  ex- 
pected that  Mr.  Adams  would  serve  out  his  time  in  the  Leg- 
islature as  easily  as  possible,  and  at  the  end  of  it  retire  once 
more  to  his  favorite  pursuits.  But  this  was  not  the  nature  of 
the  man.  Having  once  undertaken  a  task,  he  was  determined 
to  go  through  with  it.  All  the  traditions  of  the  Adamses 
prompted  him  to  be  a  leader  rather  than  a  passive  follower, 
and,  true  to  those  traditions,  he  soon  took  a  commanding  po- 
sition in  the  State  Assembly,  working  quite  as  hard  and  pa- 
tiently in  the  new  and,  to  him,  untrodden  field  of  politics  as 
he  had  done  in  the  more  congenial  walks  of  literature. 

During  his  term  in  the  lower  House  the  Whig  Party  in 
Massachusetts  began  to  divide  on  the  slavery  question,  and  the 
first  mutterings  of  the  storm  which  was  destined  to  drive  the 
country  into  civil  war  began  to  be  heard.  Mr.  Adams  did  not 
hesitate.  From  the  very  outset  he  condemned  the  evident 
leaning  of  a  majority  of  his  party  toward  the  side  of  the  slave- 
holder, and  when  the  long-threatened  split  came,  and  the  or- 
ganization was  divided  into  "Cotton  Whigs"  and  "Conscience 
Whigs,"  he  made  the  first  public  display  of  that  fearless  and 
outspoken  independence  in  politics  which,  in  later  years,  be- 
came one  of  his  marked  characteristics.  He  turned  his  back 
on  men  of  power,  influence,  and  wealth,  with  whom  he  was 
bound  by  many  social  and  other  ties,  and  gave  strength  and 
standing  to  the  "Conscience  Whigs"  by  becoming  one  of 
their  most  pronounced  leaders.  In  the  lower  House  of  the 
Legislature  he  was  recognized  as  the  champion  of  the  negro ; 
and  Avhile  he  was  opposed  to  the  violent  speeches  of  the  more 
advanced  Abolitionists,  and  to  the   extreme  measures  which 


6o  Twelve  Americans. 

they  proposed,  he  strongly  advocated  the  right  of  colored 
people  to  be  accommodated  in  the  public  conveyances  of  his 
native  State,  and  by  urging  this,  and  other  practical  reforms 
of  a  similar  character,  made  himself  very  unpopular  with  many 
of  his  aristocratic  neighbors  and  acquaintances.  The  voters 
of  his  district  approved  his  course,  however,  and  after  serving 
for  three  years  in  the  Assembly  he  was  elected  to  the  State 
Senate.  In  that  body  he  continued  his  vigorous,  but  at  the 
same  time  calm  and  judicious,  opposition  to  the  threatened 
encroachment  of  the  slave-holding  power,  and  was  frequently 
called  upon  to  preside  over  committees  formed  to  consider 
questions  affecting  the  colored  people. 

At  this  time  there  appeared  upon  the  statute-books  of  South 
Carolina  a  law  by  which  the  officers  of  that  State  were  au- 
thorized to  seize  any  negro  attached  to  any  vessel  entering  its 
ports.  The  man  so  seized  might,  under  the  law,  be  imprisoned 
until  the  ship's  departure,  and  even  then  he  could  only  be 
released  after  the  cost  of  his  maintenance  while  in  prison  had 
been  paid  by  the  captain  or  owner  of  the  vessel.  If  the  same 
colored  sailor  came  to  a  South  Carolina  port  twice,  it  was  pro- 
vided that  he  might  be  publicly  whipped ;  and  if  he  came  a 
third  time,  the  law  stipulated  that  he  could  be  sold  at  auction 
in  the  slave-market,  and  the  proceeds  of  the  sale  conveyed  into 
the  Treasury  of  the  State.  Under  this  law  several  free  men 
of  Massachusetts  had  been  seized,  and  a  petition  was  sent  to 
the  Legislature  asking  that  measures  be  taken  to  prevent 
a  repetition  of  such  outrages.  It  was  immediately  referred 
to  a  committee  of  which  Mr.  Adams  was  the  chairman,  and 
through  him  the  Legislature  authorized  the  Governor  to  send 
an  agent  to  South  Carolina  to  give  expression  to  the  dissatis- 
faction with  which  Massachusetts  regarded  the  law.  Mr.  Sam- 
uel Hoar,  one  of  the  most  distinguished  men  in  New  England, 
was  selected  to  perform  this  service.  How  he  was  treated 
need  not  here  be  detailed.     It  is  only  necessary  to  state  that 


A  Descendant  of  Presidents.  61 

he  was  iusultcd,  abused,  and  driven  from  Charleston  by  a  mob 
— the  ancestors  of  the  ruffians  who  a  few  years  ago — in  1876 
and  later — made  bids  for  "reconciliation"  by  bloody  deeds  at 
Hamburg,  Edgefield,  and  Ellenton.  Against  this  outrage  Mr. 
Adams  protested,  in  an  address  so  forcible,  but  withal  so  mod- 
erate and  discreet  in  tone,  that  he  at  once  came  into  promi- 
nence, not  only  in  New  England  but  throughout  the  nation,  as 
one  of  the  ablest  men  of  his  party. 

III. 

THE  ANTISLAVERY  MOVEMENT.— VAN  BUREN  AND  ADAMS. 

But  Mr.  Adams  was  not  destined  to  remain  much  longer  in 
the  Whig  organization.  The  antislavery  storm  was  coming, 
and  it  was  his  fortune  to  take  an  important  part  in  the  move- 
ment. James  K.  Polk,  an  insignificant  nobody,  the  tool  of  the 
slave-holders,  was  made  President  of  the  United  States  over 
that  great  political  leader,  Henry  Clay.  Texas  had  been  "an- 
nexed "  that  slavery  might  be  extended ;  war  with  Mexico  was 
next  on  the  programme,  and  Mr.  Adams  fully  expected  that 
the  leaders  of  his  party  in  the  nation  would  at  last  make  a 
united  stand  for  their  rights  and  the  principles  of  Republican- 
ism. He  was  disappointed.  The  Whigs  were  almost  servile 
in  their  attitude  toward  the  triumphant  Democracy.  Some 
of  them  went  so  far  as  to  advocate  the  war ;  and,  utterly  dis- 
gusted, Mr.  Adams  decided  to  give  up  his  leadership  in  the 
party,  and  declined  a  re-election  to  the  Legislature.  Other 
men,  feeling  as  he  did,  quickly  gathered  about  him.  They 
believed  that  there  was  about  to  be  a  crisis  in  the  affairs  of 
their  country,  and  they  decided  that  they  would  not  be  al- 
together unprepared  for,  it.  Their  first  care  was  to  secure  a 
newspaper  through  which  to  express  their  disapprobation  of 
the  course  taken  by  the  great  political  parties.  For  this  pur- 
pose John  G.  Palfrey,  then  Secretary  of  the  Commonwealth, 


62  Twelve  Americans. 

called  a  meeting,  to  be  held  at  "Lobby  Xo.  13"  in  the  Massa- 
chusetts State-house.  It  was  attended  by  that  gentleman,  by 
Stephen  C.  Phillips,  of  Salem  ;  Charles  Sumner,  of  Boston  ; 
Henry  AYilson,  of  Xatick ;  and  Charles  Francis  Adams ;  and 
resulted  in  the  purchase  of  the  Boston  Whig,  which  had  been 
offered  to  Mr.  Adams  by  the  gentlemen  who  controlled  it. 
Of  the  purchase-money  Mr.  Adams  and  Mr.  Phillips  contrib- 
uted two-fifths  each,  and  Dr.  Palfrey  gave  the  rest.  Messrs. 
Sumner  and  "Wilson,  less  favored  by  fortune,  pledged  them- 
selves to  support  the  undertaking  by  hard  work.  From  this 
beginning  grew  the  Republican  Party  of  Massachusetts.  After 
the  newspaper  had  been  secured  Mr.  Adams — peculiarly  well- 
fitted  for  the  task — took  the  editorial  chair,  and  during  the 
years  which  followed  labored  harder  and  more  assiduously 
than  at  any  other  period  of  his  life. 

With  varied  fortunes  he  and  his  associates  continued  to 
fight  the  battle  of  freedom  until  the  approach  of  another 
Presidential  election.  Then  they  began  to  ask  themselves 
what  part  they  should  take  in  the  momentous  contest  about  to 
commence.  They  had  not  long  to  wait  for  an  answer.  Their 
course  was  soon  open  to  them.  The  Administration  of  Presi- 
dent Polk  had  ended  in  a  triumphant  war,  the  immediate  re- 
sult of  which  was  an  enormous  accretion  of  new  territory, 
thrown  open  to  the  control  of  the  slave-holders.  Of  that 
war  General  Taylor  had  been  the  hero,  and  his  popularity 
was  great  in  consequence — so  great,  indeed,  that  he,  a  citizen 
of  a  slave  State,  an  extensive  owner  of  slaves,  was  made 
the  Presidential  nominee  of  the  Whig  Party  !  On  the  other 
hand,  the  Xational  Convention  of  the  Democracy,  urged  by 
William  Allen,  of  Ohio,  had  nominated  Mr.  Cass,  a  pronounced 
friend  of  the  slave-holding  element.  In  this  dilemma  how 
were  Mr.  Adams  and  his  associates  to  act '  They  knew  that 
they  dared  not  remain  idle — could  not  afford  quietly  to  fold 
their  hands  and  throw  awav  whatever  influence  thev  had  grain- 


A  Descendant  of  Presidents.  63 

ed  by  hard,  np-hill  struggle.  Bnt  how  could  they  act  and 
maintain  an  attitude  of  consistency  ?  To  vote  for  Cass  would 
be  to  give  sanction  to  the  policy,  to  the  party,  to  the  war,  and 
to  the  odious  system  which  they  had  so  fiercely  denounced. 
To  vote  for  Taylor  would  be  to  glorify  the  agent  who  had 
done  so  much  to  promote  results  the  most  distasteful  to  them. 
There  could  be,  there  was,  only  one  course  open  to  them. 
They  took  it,  and  decided  to  make  a  third  nomination. 

At  this  time  the  new  Free-soil  Party — which,  in  Massachu- 
setts, was  headed  by  Mr.  Adams — had  extended  its  influence  to 
all  the  Northern  and  Western  States ;  and  having  received  large 
accessions  from  both  the  Whigs  and  Democrats,  it  became 
necessary  to  decide  from  which  of  the  old  organizations  a  can- 
didate should  be  selected.  The  Democratic  element  among 
the  Free-soilers  favored  the  candidacy  of  ex-President  Van 
Buren,  while  the  Whigs,  and  among  them  Mr.  Adams,  advo- 
cated Judge  McLean,  of  Ohio  ;  and  though  they  never  believed 
that  they  could  do  more  under  either  of  those  leaders  than 
maintain  their  organization,  display  their  rapidly  -  growing 
strength,  and  enter  their  protest  against  the  tendencies  of  the 
old  parties,  there  was  still  a  great  deal  of  earnestness  displayed 
in  the  preliminary  contest  for  the  nomination.  It  was  under 
these  circumstances  that  the  famous  Buffalo  Convention  of 
1848  came  together.  Seventeen  States  were  represented,  the 
delegation  from  Massachusetts,  led  by  Mr.  Adams,  being  par- 
ticularly large,  and  made  up  of  the  most  promising  young  men 
in  the  State.  At  first,  inspired  by  him,  they  were  most  enthu- 
siastic in  their  desire  for  the  nomination  of  Judge  McLean;  but 
when  they  arrived  in  Buffalo  it  began  to  be  noised  about  that 
that  gentleman  was  not  thoroughly  in  accord  with  the  Free- 
soil  movement,  and  might  not  consent  to  be  the  nominee  of 
the  new  party.  Mr.  Adams,  hearing  these  rumors,  went  to  Mr. 
Chase  (afterward  a  member  of  Lincoln's  Cabinet,  then  the 
leader  of  the  Ohio  delegation  in  the  convention),  to  be  assured 


64  Twelve  Americans. 

that  they  were  untrue.  He  has  always  been  a  direct  man,  of 
few  words,  and,  without  unnecessary  preface,  he  at  once  made 
known  his  business,  saying  simply, 

"  Mr.  Chase,  there  have  been  some  vague  reports  that  Judge 
McLean,  whom  we  desire  to  make  our  candidate,  is  not  very 
firm  in  his  advocacy  of  our  party.  I  have  come  to  you  to 
know  if  there  is  any  foundation  for  such  rumors." 

With  equal  frankness  Mr.  Chase  replied  that  Judge  McLean 
was  not  committed  to  one  side  or  the  other;  that,  in  fact,  he 
was  "  wavering  on  the  anxious  seat,"  with  a  strong  aversion  to 
going  into  such  a  contest  as  that  about  to  open. 

This  statement  was  a  wet  blanket  upon  the  Whig  element, 
but  Mr.  Adams  was  not  altogether  unprepared  for  the  emer- 
gency, lie  had  foreseen  that,  in  the  event  of  Judge  McLean's 
defeat  or  withdrawal,  Mr.  Van  Buren  would,  if  he  desired  it, 
receive  the  nomination ;  and  three  weeks  previous  to  the  con- 
vention he  had  addressed  a  confidential  letter  to  that  gentle- 
man, reciting  the  nature  and  aims  of  the  Free-soil  movement, 
referring  in  laudatory  terms  to  Mr.  Van  Buren's  action  in  op- 
posing the  Texas  policy,  and  asking  him  explicitly  to  state  the 
position  which  he  desired  to  occupy  in  connection  with  the 
Buffalo  Convention.  To  this  Mr.  Van  Buren  replied  in  a  con- 
fidential letter,  in  which,  among  other  things,  he  referred  to  his 
record  on  the  slavery  question,  and  the  defeat  of  his  friends  in 
the  convention  which  nominated  Cass.  The  salient  points  of 
the  communication  were  as  follows: 

"  [Confidential]  "  Liudenwold,  July  24, 1S4S. 

"  My  dear  Sir, — I  have  received  your  letter,  and,  although  you  do  not 
desire  an  answer,  I  cannot,  in  justice  to  my  own  feelings,  refrain  from  ex- 
pressing the  satisfaction  I  have  derived  from  its  good  sense,  liberal  and 
manly  spirit.  It  has  afforded  me  much  pleasure  to  find  that  you,  at  least, 
understand  what  it  is  so  difficult  to  make  most  people  comprehend — 'the 
involuntary  character  of  the  relation  which  I  occupy  to  the  public'  So 
far  was  I  from  desiring  to  be  a  candidate  for  the  Presidency,  that  it  would 
have  required  other  and  stronger  considerations  than  those  which  were 
then  presented  to  me  to  have  prevented  me  from  declining  the  office  itself, 


A  Descendant  of  Presidents.  65 

if  those  who  asked  me  to  be  a  candidate  had  possessed  the  power  of  plac- 
ing it  at  my  disposal.  *  *  *  The  most  prominent  men  in  the  convention, 
who  were  sincerely  desirous  of  respecting  my  known  wishes,  lost  the  con- 
trol of  its  movements  in  regard  to  the  nomination  after  the  reading  of  my 
letter,  and  the  result  is  known  to  all.  Although  brought  before  the  coun- 
try in  this  unexpected  and  extraordinary  manner,  it  did  not  require  much 
reflection  to  satisfy  me  that  the  course  I  have  adopted  was  the  only  one 
that  was  open  to  me,  and  to  that  I  will,  of  course,  adhere.  *  *  *  It  can,  un- 
der existing  circumstances,  be  scarcely  necessary  to  say  that  if  any  of  your 
friends  think  they  can  give  more  effect  to  their  principles  upon  the  main 
subject,  by  taking  a  course  different  from  that  to  which  your  own  feelings 
seem  inclined,  or  if  it  would  for  any  reason  be  more  agreeable  to  them  to 
do  so,  their  conduct  in  the  matter  will  not  be  disagreeable  to  me  in  any 
sense.  My  solicitude  has  been,  not  to  get  nominations,  but  to  keep  clear 
of  them;  and  nothing  can  be  done  at  Buffalo  that  is  founded  on  good 
sense  and  looks  in  good  faith  to  the  advancement  of  the  great  principle  I 
hold  sacred  which  will  cause  me  either  regret  or  mortification. 

"  I  have  marked  this  letter  '  confidential,'  because  I  have  received  a  vast 
number  of  communications  upon  the  same  subject  which  I  am  compelled 
to  leave  unanswered,  as  I  have  done,  I  believe,  in  every  case  except  yours, 
and  I  desire  to  avoid  giving  offence  as  far  as  I  can.  The  views  it  takes  I 
do  not  hesitate  to  express  to  all  who  desire  to  understand  them.  While, 
therefore,  reasonable  caution  is  observed  in  regard  to  the  fact  of  our  cor- 
respondence, I  shall  be  content  that  you  speak  of  my  opinions  and  disposi- 
tions as  you  now  understand  them. 

"  I  am,  very  respectfully  and  truly,  yours,  M.  Van  Buren. 

"Cha.klf.8  Feanois  Adams,  Esq." 

The  permission  given  in  the  closing  paragraph  of  this  letter 
was  judiciously  used  by  Mr.  Adams  when  it  became  evident, 
that  Judge  McLean  could  not  receive  the  nomination  of  the 
convention,  and  Martin  Van  Buren  was  made  the  Free-soil  can- 
didate for  President  of  the  United  States.  Charles  Francis 
Adams  was  himself  nominated  for  Vice-President.  At  the  elec- 
tion which  followed,  and  in  which  Taylor  was  elected  by  an 
overwhelming  majority,  the  new  organization  cast  some  three 
hundred  thousand  votes ;  and  then  commenced  the  great  strug- 
gle for  human  liberty  which  was  carried  to  a  triumphant  close 
by  the  Republican  Party,  for  so  many  years  the  party  of  en- 
lightenment and  progress. 

For  a   time,  after  the  Buffalo  Convention,  Mr.  Adams,  by 


66  Twelve  Americans. 

his  own  will,  and  because  of  his  attachment  to  the  Free-soil 
and  Republican  Parties,  was  prevented  from  holding  political 
office.  Still,  he  continued  to  work  with  unceasing  energy  to 
advance  the  cause  which  he  had  espoused,  and  in  1858  he 
was  elected  by  the  Third  Massachusetts  District  to  represent 
that  cause  in  Congress.  While  in  that  body  he  made  very 
few  speeches,  but  whenever  he  did  speak  he  was  listened  to 
wTith  much  greater  attention  than  was  given  to  many  of  his 
more  ambitious  colleagues,  and  what  he  said  was  quoted  and 
commented  upon  in  all  parts  of  the  country.  One  of  his  most 
noteworthy  addresses  was  delivered  late  in  the  spring  of  1860. 
It  was  intended  as  a  defence  of  the  Republican  Party,  and  in  it 
he  demonstrated  with  much  force  and  adroitness  that  the  slave 
States,  by  reason  of  slave  representation,  held  undue  power  in 
the  national  sisterhood,  and  warned  them,  in  clear  and  pointed, 
but  at  the  same  time  calm  and  dignified  terms,  that  the  Re- 
publicans would  not  permit  that  power  to  be  abused  or  em- 
ployed to  the  detriment  of  any  section  of  the  nation.  In  the 
course  of  the  address  he  characterized  the  contest  between  the 
slave-holders'  party  and  their  Republican  opponents  as  "an 
irrepressible  conflict."  The  speech  created  a  great  deal  of  ex- 
citement, and  gave  Mr.  Adams  even  higher  standing  among  the 
Republicans  than  he  had  held  before.  At  this  time,  too,  he 
began  to  be  regarded  as  the  next  friend  and  confidant  of  Wil- 
liam H.  Seward ;  and,  with  that  gentleman,  during  the  recess 
of  Congress,  he  made  a  tour  of  the  West,  delivering  strong 
Republican  speeches  at  several  of  the  principal  cities.  During 
the  next  session  he  made  a  masterly  address  in  favor  of  what 
was  known  as  "the  compromise  measure  of  the  Committee  of 
Thirty-three,"  taking  the  ground  that  slavery  might  not  be  in- 
terfered with  in  the  original  slave  States,  but  that  it  must  not 
be  extended  into  new  territory.  Without  indicating  in  any 
way  that  he  believed  war  imminent,  he  intimated — indirectly, 
it  is  true,  but,  nevertheless,  in  terms  which  could  not  be  mis- 


A  Descendant  of  Presidents.  67 

understood  —  that,  as  an  individual,  he  would  not  object  to 
allowing  the  slave  States  to  leave  the  Union,  if  they  were  bent 
on  making  the  trial,  but  that  they  could  never  be  allowed  to 
do  so  if  they  intended  to  obstruct  the  free  navigation  of  the 
Mississippi  River,  or  place  any  obstacle  in  the  way  of  the  full- 
est and  freest  intercourse  with  and  between  the  States  which 
remained  in  the  Union.  By  these  and  similar  addresses  Mr. 
Adams  gained  the  confidence  and  respect  of  a  large  section 
of  the  Republican  Party,  which  was  not  yet  ripe  for  extreme 
measures,  and  had  he  so  desired  he  might  have  made  himself 
the  recognized  Republican  leader  in  the  House.  But  he  did  not 
seek  the  position.  He  lacked  the  peculiar  tact  which  makes 
men  popular  with  the  masses  of  their  associates ;  lie  practised 
no  arts  to  gain  men's  friendship ;  and,  if  the  truth  were  known, 
he  had  but  little  taste  for  the  rough-and-tumble  debates  in 
which  Congressional  leaders  are  obliged  to  engage.  Mean- 
while, the  great  political  struggle  of  1860  came  to  an  end. 
Abraham  Lincoln  was  made  President,  and  war  was  declared. 

IV. 
MINISTER   TO   ENGLAND. 

During  this  crisis  in  his  country's  history  Charles  Francis 
Adams  was  destined  to  play  a  most  important  part — a  part  in 
which  he  was  to  earn  great  credit,  gain  much  reputation,  and 
give  new  lustre  to  a  name  already  illustrious.  When  the  new 
Administration  came  into  power  there  was  some  talk  of  plac- 
ing him  in  the  Cabinet,  but  the  idea,  if  Mr.  Lincoln  ever  se- 
riously entertained  it,  was  soon  abandoned.  Subsequently, 
however,  when  Mr.  Seward  became  Secretary  of  State,  one  of 
his  first  cares  was  to  insist  *that  Mr.  Adams  be  appointed  Min- 
ister to  England,  and,  fortunately  for  the  country,  he  accepted 
that  position.     It  is  a  noteworthy  fact  that  the  President  was 


68  Twelve  Americans. 

not  in  favor  of  Lis  appointment.  Mr.  Lincoln  made  no  secret 
of  Lis  opposition.  Indeed,  when  Mr.  Adams  came  to  Wash- 
ington,  at  the  request  of  Lis  friend  Seward,  tLe  President  told 
him  plainly  that  Le  was  not  Lis  cLoice.  The  interview  was  a 
characteristic  one.  Mr.  Adams  Lad  seen  tLe  Secretary  of  State, 
received  Lis  appointment,  and  was  ready  to  set  out  on  Lis  mis- 
sion. Before  doing  so  Le  called  on  tLe  President,  to  tLank 
him  for  tLe  important  trust  committed  to  Lis  care.  He  found 
Mr.  Lincoln  in  tLe  Executive  Office,  and,  without  preface,  said, 

"  Mr.  President,  I  Lave  called  to  tLank  you  for  tLe  appoint- 
ment you  Lave  given  me,  and  to  take  my  leave." 

"Yes,  yes,  Mr.  Adams,"  replied  Lincoln,  in  Lis  own  peculiar- 
ly outspoken  fasliion  ;  "  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  and  to  know  that 
the  whole  matter  is  settled,  but  I  might  as  well  tell  you  that 
you  do  not  owe  your  appointment  to  me.  You  were  Mr.  Sew- 
ard's choice,  and  he  insisted  upon  it." 

"  Nevertheless,  I  shall  do  my  utmost  to  support  your  Admin- 
istration," replied  Mi1.  Adams,  and  without  farther  ado  took 
his  leave. 

"When  the  new  Minister  arrived  in  England  he  found  that 
the  Queen  Lad  just  issued  a  proclamation  of  neutrality;  but  Le 
was  not  long  in  discovering  that  the  Foreign  Office  and  a  large 
number  of  the  most  influential  men  in  the  kingdom  were  se- 
cretly in  sympathy  with  the  Confederates,  and  he  soon  had 
evidence  which  went  far  to  convince  him  that  infringements 
of  the  neutrality  laws  in  favor  of  the  South,  if  they  were  not 
openly  sanctioned,  would  certainly  be  winked  at.  Still  farther 
than  this,  he  found  that  personally  he  would  have  to  contend 
with  many  difficulties  thrown  in  his  way  by  members  of  the 
nobility  and  Government,  who  expected  and  hoped  to  witness 
the  defeat  of  the  United  States.  He  saw  that  the  task  before 
him  was  a  most  delicate  and  disagreeable  one ;  still,  he  never 
faltered  in  the  performance  of  Lis  duty  to  the  Government 


A  Descendant  of  Presidents.  69 

which  trusted  him.  Every  day  brought  him  some  fresh  trial, 
but  every  new  difficulty  only  nerved  him  to  renewed  exertion. 
He  seemed  to  be  fitted  in  every  way,  by  nature,  education,  and 
inclination,  for  the  position  which  he  was  called  upon  to  fill. 
In  him  the  trained  diplomats  of  England  soon  discovered  that 
they  had  no  backwoods  politician  to  deal  with.  Charles  Fran- 
cis Adams  could  meet  the  best  of  them  upon  an  equal  footing 
and  upon  their  own  ground.  That  calm  reserve  and  dignity, 
even  coldness  of  manner,  which  his  Congressional  associates 
had  sometimes  complained  of,  now  won  him  the  respect  of  men 
who,  in  their  intercourse  with  strangers,  delighted  to  be  reserved 
in  speech  and  cold  in  manner.  Gradually,  he  gained  the  confi- 
dence of  Earl  Russell,  Lord  Palmerston,  and  others,  and,  by 
his  untiring  energy,  persistency,  and  prompt  appeals  to  those 
gentlemen  and  their  associates  in  the  English  Government — ap- 
peals which  were  always  couched  in  the  most  courteous  and 
statesmanlike,  but  at  the  same  time  the  plainest  and  firmest, 
language  —  he  succeeded  in  putting  a  stop  to  many  enter- 
prises which  were  set  on  foot  for  the  benefit  of  the  rebels, 
and  in  preventing  many  contemplated  violations  of  the  neu- 
trality laws,  which,  had  they  been  successful,  would  undoubt- 
edly have  resulted  in  great  embarrassment  to  the  Government 
of  the  United  States. 

Perhaps  the  greatest  difficulty  which  Mr.  Adams  had  to  en- 
counter while  in  England  was  in  connection  with  the  Mason 
and  Slidell  affair.  In  the  time  preceding  its  occurrence  he 
had  won  for  himself  an  enviable  position  in  the  best  circles 
of  English  society,  and  was  a  welcome  guest  at  the  houses  of 
many  distinguished  men.  With  Lord  Houghton  he  was  on 
particularly  friendly  terms,  and  just  before  the  trouble  in  ques- 
tion he  had  gone  down  frpm  London  to  one  of  that  gentle- 
man's country-seats  to  spend  a  few  days.  On  the  evening  of 
his    arrival,  himself,  Lord   Houghton,  and    a    small    party   of 


yo  Twelve  Americans. 

friends  went  to  visit  a  neighboring  ruin  of  some  celebrity,  and, 
after  duly  inspecting  it,  were  about  to  return,  when  suddenly 
they  were  startled  by  the  unwonted  clatter  of  a  horse  gallop- 
ing at  breakneck  speed  down  the  lane  leading  to  the  spot 
upon  which  they  were  standing. 

"Who  in  the  world  can  that  be?"  some  one  exclaimed;  and 
Lord  Houghton,  wondering  at  the  unusual  pace  at  which  the 
horse  was  being  driven,  went  to  meet  the  rider.  He  returned 
in  a  few  moments,  looking  annoyed  and  troubled,  and  shortly 
afterward,  calling  Mr.  Adams  aside,  said, 

"  Mr.  Adams,  I  have  news  for  you  which  may  not  be  agree- 
able." 

"  I  should  like  to  hear  it  at  once,"  the  American  Minister 
briefly  replied,  and  Lord  Houghton  continued  : 

"  Well,  then,  the  fact  is  that  Earl  Russell  desires  your  im- 
mediate presence  at  the  Foreign  Office,  in  London." 

Greatly  wondering  what  business  could  have  compelled  such 
urgency,  Mr.  Adams  read  the  telegram  which  asked  him  to  re- 
turn to  the  metropolis,  and  as  soon  as  possible  presented  him- 
self at  the  Foreign  Office.  Upon  arriving  there  he  was  quick- 
ly informed  by  the  Earl  that  Messrs.  Mason  and  Slidell,  two 
citizens  of  the  Confederacy — which  had  been  recognized  as  a 
belligerent  power  by  the  British  Government — had,  by  the 
orders  of  officers  of  the  United  States,  been  forcibly  removed 
from  an  English  ship.  Making  this  announcement,  Rus- 
sell demanded,  in  somewhat  curt  terms,  what  reparation  the 
American  Minister  could  suggest  for  this  affront  to  England 
and  the  English  flag.  Mr.  Adams  was  by  far  too  good  a  dip- 
lomate  to  make  definite  answer  at  such  short  notice ;  but 
he  subsequently  urged,  with  all  his  power,  that  the  rebels 
be  returned  to  the  protection  of  the  English  Government. 
Because  of  this  course  he  was  severely  criticised  by  leading 
American  politicians ;  but  in  the  end  his  advice  was  taken,  and 


A  Descendant  of  Presidents.  7 1 

it  is  now  known  that  President  Lincoln's  Administration,  by 
complying  with  his  wishes,  avoided  a  most  dangerous  compli- 
cation. By  his  straightforward  and  manly  but  always  moder- 
ate and  courteous  action  in  regard  to  the  many  vexed  questions 
which  arose  between  the  two  Governments  at  this  time,  Mr. 
Adams  gained  many  new  friends  in  England.  He  was  partic- 
ularly liked  by  the  scholars  and  students  among  the  nobility  ; 
and,  as  an  evidence  of  the  regard  of  this  class,  he  was  one  day 
very  much  surprised  to  receive  a  communication  from  the  Fac- 
ulty of  the  University  of  Oxford,  in  which  he  was  informed, 
that  the  ancient  institution  in  question  had  decided  to  confer 
upon  him  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Laws.  For  a  moment  he 
was,  naturally,  gratified ;  but  upon  reflection  it  occurred  to  him 
that  there  were  many  difficulties  in  the  way  of  his  acceptance 
of  the  honor,  an  honor  which  he  was  fully  aware  many  great 
men  had  wished  for  in  vain.  He  remembered  that  several  of 
the  young  men  in  attendance  upon  the  University  were  known 
to  be  warm  sympathizers  with  the  Southern  Confederacy.  He 
also  recalled  the  fact  that  his  predecessor,  Mr.  Everett,  had 
been  hissed  by  the  students  while  in  the  very  act  of  formally 
accepting  the  degree ;  and  knowing  that  a  similar  demonstra- 
tion against  himself  would  be  very  injurious,  perhaps  not  so 
much  to  his  own  reputation  as  to  the  Government  which  he 
represented,  he  decided  to  decline  the  proffered  honor.  He 
did  so  in  a  letter  which  was  so  happily  worded  that  it  gave  no 
offence. 

Subsequently,  while  at  a  ball,  Lord  Derby,  referring  to  the 
subject,  asked  him  why  he  had  refused  to  accept  the  degree. 
Mr.  Adams  plainly  stated  his  reasons,  at  the  same  time  express- 
ing becoming  regret  for  the  necessity  which  had  prompted  the 
refusal ;  but  still  the  English  nobleman  seemed  to  be  at  a  loss 
to  understand  how  any  man  in  his  right  mind  could,  under 
any  circumstances,  refuse  to  be  made  a  Doctor  of  Laws  by  the 


72  Twelve  Americans. 

University  of  Oxford.  There  is  reason  to  believe,  however, 
that  Mr.  Adams's  motives  were  generally  appreciated,  and  his 
action  regarded  in  the  proper  light.  At  all  events,  he  contin- 
ued to  grow  in  favor  with  all  classes  of  the  English  people, 
and  when,  after  seven  years'  service  (the  longest  term  of  any 
American  Minister,  save  one),  he  was  about  to  leave  London, 
the  most  distinguished  men  in  the  nation  united  in  tendering 
him  a  farewell  banquet.  But,  to  use  his  own  words,  he  had 
"  no  taste  for  public  dinners,'"  and  he  declined.  Subsequently, 
his  friends  expressed  their  appreciation  of  his  distinguished 
services  in  the  following  unusual  and  glowing  testimonial : 

"  London,  May  31, 1S6S. 

"  Sir, — In  addressing  you,  on  the  eve  of  your  departure  from  England, 
after  a  residence  of  seven  years  among  us,  we  whose  names  are  under- 
signed are  earnestly  desirous  of  conveying  to  you  some  expression  of  our 
personal  attachment  and  esteem,  and  are  willing  to  hope  that  you  will  ac- 
cept this  expression  in  the  form  in  which  we  now  offer  it. 

"  The  important  official  position  you  have  held  here  makes  it  incumbent 
on  us  to  state,  that  in  thus  addressing  you  we  are  influenced  by  none 
other  than  personal  considerations  toward  yourself.  The  names  subscribed 
will  show  this  to  be  the  case.  We  have  reason  to  know  that,  had  the  op- 
portunity occurred,  they  could  have  been  largely  added  to  from  every  part 
of  the  country. 

"  While  purposely  refraining,  however,  from  all  matters  of  political  or 
public  concern,  we  may  be  permitted  to  express  it  as  our  conviction  that 
no  Minister  ever  discharged  with  more  zeal  and  ability  his  duties  to  his 
own  country,  while  conciliating  the  general  esteem  of  that  to  which  he  was 
accredited.  We  all  know  the  various  difficulties  which  have  occurred  in 
the  fulfilment  of  these  duties,  and  fully  appreciate  the  temperance  as  well 
as  firmness  with  which  you  have  met  them. 

"  We  believe  that  you  have  thereby  much  contributed  to  their  eventual 
amicable  solution,  and  to  strengthening  the  bond  of  union  between  the  two 
nations — an  object  we  all  earnestly  desire,  and  which  is  so  important  to 
the  welfare  of  each  and  to  the  cause  of  liberty  and  enlightened  humanity 
throughout  the  world. 

'•  Manv  of  us  have  had  intimate  knowledge  of  you  also  in  the  relations 
of  social"  life,  and  have  learned  to  value  those  eminent  personal  qualities 
which  mav  rightly  be  regarded  as  hereditary  in  your  family. 

"  We  merely  add  farther  the  expression  of  our  earnest  wishes  for  your 


A  Descendant  of  Presidents. 


73 


future  health  and  welfare,  whether  in  public  or  private  life.     We  have  the 
honor  to  remain,  Sir,  very  respectfully,  your  obedient  servants — 


"  Argyll. 
Stanhope. 
Granville. 
Cranworth. 
Charles  Lyell. 
Shaftesbury. 
Dufferin. 

Arthur  P.  Stanley. 
Henry  Reeve. 
James  W.  Colville. 
Henry  Holland. 
Herman  Merivale. 
John  Bright. 
Thomas  Milner  Gibson. 
A.  H.  Layard. 
Halifax. 
Arthur  Russell. 
G.  Shaw  Lefevre. 
Jacob  Bright. 
M.  E.  Grant  Duff. 

MlLNES  GASKILL. 

Stafford  H.  Northcote. 
Francis  H.  Goldsmid. 
C.  B.  Adderley. 

A.  KlNNAIRD. 

Edward  Cardwell. 
William  J.  Alexander. 
G.  Gray. 
Taunton. 
Thomas  Baring. 
John  Abel  Smith. 
Sam  Whitbread. 
H.  E.  Rawlinson. 
E.  P.  Bouverie. 
Sir  T.  E.  Colebrooke. 
George  J.  Goschen. 
John  Simeon. 

"To  the  Honorable  Ciiarli 


H.  A.  Bruce. 
George  Denman. 
Spencer  H.  Walpole. 
Sir  James  Locaita. 
James  Kay  Shuttleworth. 

KlMBERLEY. 

Camperdown. 

Charles  Buxton. 

C.  E.  Trevelyan. 

Rod.  I.  Murchison. 

C.  P.  Fortescue. 

W.  E.  Gladstone. 

A.  C.  London. 

Roundell  Palmer. 

Belper. 

H.  H.  Milman. 

J.  Wilson  Patten. 

W.  Hubbard. 

Disraeli. 

Stanley. 

Houghton. 

Thomson  Hankey. 

W.  E.  Forster. 

Thomas  N.  Hunt,  Governor  of  the 

Bank  of  England. 
R.  W.  Crawford,  Deputy  Governor 

of  the  Bank  of  England. 
Smith,  Payne  &  Smiths. 
Glyn,  Mills,  Currie  &  Co. 
Baring  Brothers  &  Co. 
Robarts,  Lubbock  &  Co. 
Brown,  Shipley  &  Co. 
Richardson  &  Co. 
Barclay,  Bevan,  Tritton  &  Co. 
Barnett,  Hoares,  Hanbury  &  Co, 
Williams,  Deacon  &  Co. 
I.  J.  Morgan  &  Co. 


8  Francis  Adams.' 


In  addition  to  this  tribute  from  the  leading  men  of  Great 

Britain,  Mr.  Adams,  while  at  the  Court  of  St.  James's,  was  the 

4 


74  Twelve  Americans. 

frequent  recipient  of  warm  congratulatory  and  laudatory  de- 
spatches from  his  own  Government. 

Upon  his  retirement,  from  the  English  Mission  Mr.  Adams 
returned  to  the  literary  pursuits  in  which  he  had  always  found 
most  pleasure,  but  in  time  he  was  again  called  upon  to  quit 
them,  and,  as  one  of  the  Geneva  Arbitrators,  still  farther  to 
serve  his  country.  Of  his  work  in  that  connection  it  is  only 
necessary  to  say  that  no  man  could  have  done  better  than  he 
did.  His  course  during  the  entire  arbitration  was  so  impartial, 
judicial,  and  independent  as  to  merit  the  admiration  of  all  his 
associates  and  of  many  foreign  nations. 

Returning  from  Geneva,  he  again  retired  to  his  library,  and 
for  a  time  took  no  farther  part  in  active  politics.  He  never 
failed  to  keep  himself  well-informed  of  what  was  going  on  in 
the  political  world,  however,  and  in  1872,  when  "the  Liberal 
movement "  began,  he  became  one  of  its  chief  and  most  disin- 
terested advocates.  At  the  Cincinnati  Convention  of  that  year 
a  determined  but  unsuccessful  effort  was  made  to  nominate  him 
for  the  Presidency,  Carl  Schurz,  Murat  Halstead,  and  Samuel 
Bowles  being  among  his  most  enthusiastic  supporters.  Sub- 
sequently, in  1876,  just  prior  to  the  ever-memorable  Presiden- 
tial contest  of  that  year,  at  what  was  known  as  the  "  Fifth- 
Avenue  Conference,"  held  in  the  city  of  New  York,  Mr.  Schurz 
again  indicated  a  desire  to  make  Mr.  Adams  a  candidate  for 
the  chief  magistracy,  but  no  definite  action  was  taken.  In  the 
same  year,  on  the  eve  of  the  Massachusetts  State  Convention, 
a  number  of  the  Republican  leaders  endeavored  to  make  him 
their  candidate  for  Governor,  but  they  were  unsuccessful.  The 
Democratic  managers  then  came  to  him  and  asked  if  he  would 
accept  their  nomination.  With  characteristic  directness  and 
independence  he  replied, 

"  I  do  not  seek  a  nomination  for  any  political  place ;  but  if 
I  am  called  upon  to  be  the  candidate  of  your  party  I  will  not 
refuse." 


A  Descendant  of  Presidents.  75 

It  is,  perhaps,  needless  to  state  that  he  was  nominated,  and 
was  defeated.  He  never  had  any  idea  that  he  would  be  elect- 
ed. Indeed,  when  he  met  Governor  Rice,  the  successful  can- 
didate, a  few  days  after  the  close  of  the  contest,  he  sincerely 
congratulated  him,  and,  speaking  the  whole  truth,  said,  good- 
humoredly, 

"  I  am  exceedingly  glad,  Mr.  Rice,  that  I  did  not  by  any 
chance  slip  into  your  shoes." 

Since  that  election  Charles  Francis  Adams  has  taken  no  part 
in  politics.  He  is  now  living  quietly  at  his  home  in  Quincy, 
Massachusetts.  He  has  been  highly  honored,  and  has  in  turn 
been  an  honor  to  the  people  whom  he  served.  He  has  had 
many  critics  who  chose  to  call  him  aristocratic,  cold,  and 
unsympathetic,  but  his  bitterest  enemies  have  been  unable  to 
charge  him  with  any  graver  offence.  And  even  that  charge  is 
not  well-founded. 


The  People's  Friend. 


PETER  COOPER. 


The  People's  Friend. 


PETER   COOPER. 

i. 

"A  MANY  YEARS  AGO." 

Upon  a  summer  day  in  the  year  of  grace  1796,  in  a  narrow 
lane  leading  from  old  Qnincy  Slip — at  that  time  a  business 
centre  of  the  city  of  New  York,  which  might  best  have  been 
described  by  the  word  "  genteel " — five  boys  were  engaged  in 
scraping  the  dry  brown  mortar  from  between  the  bricks  of  the 
low-roofed  houses  which  stood  on  either  side.  The  dust  so 
obtained  they  called  snuff.  They  collected  it  in  broken  mugs 
and  tin  cups,  and  with  it  intended  to  play  at  shop-keeping. 
Suddenly,  while  they  were  most  occupied  at  their  work,  an 
ugly-looking  black  dog  sprang  out  from  one  of  the  neighbor- 
ing buildings,  and  in  a  moment  four  of  the  embryo  merchants 
had  disappeared.  Only  one  remained,  and  he,  the  smallest  and 
weakest — a  child  not  yet  six  years  of  age — was  so  alarmed 
that  he  could  not  run  away.  He  held  tightly  to  his  cup  of 
sham  snuff,  however,  and,  with  an  instinct  which  was  to  bring 
him  fame  and  great  fortune  in  the  years  to  come,  turned  about 
and  faced  the  danger  which  menaced  him.  The  dog,  perhaps 
taking  pity  upon  the  little  fellow's  apparent  helplessness,  went 
back  to  the  house  from  which  it  had  so  suddenly  emerged, 
and  the  child,  still  jealously  guarding  his  treasure  in  the  cup, 
walked  after  the  companions  who  had  deserted  him  out  of  the 
lane.     The  hero  of  this  little  scene  was  Peter  Cooper.     The 


78  Twelve  Americans. 

incident,  as  I  Lave  related  it,  was  the  earliest  recollection  of  a 
man  who  in  the  years  which  followed  saw  his  native  city  grow 
from  a  settlement  of  27,000  people  to  a  great  metropolis,  with 
a  population  of  more  than  a  million.  The  Peter  Cooper  who 
on  that  day  long  ago  stood  in  a  back  lane  trembling  at  the 
sight  of  a  black  dog  was  the  same  Peter  Cooper  who  after- 
ward became  the  leading  spirit  in  so  many  great  enterprises ; 
the  same  Peter  Cooper  who  ran  the  first  locomotive  over  the 
Baltimore  and  Ohio  Railroad ;  who  helped  to  lay  the  Atlantic 
cable ;  who  gave  to  the  Empire  City  one  of  her  noblest  insti- 
tutions, the  Cooper  Institute ;  who  earned  and  gave  away  mill- 
ions of  dollars ;  who  was  a  candidate  for  the  Presidency  of 
the  United  States ;  who,  despite  his  ninety-two  years  of  hard 
work  and  great  mental  strain,  was  at  the  time  this  sketch  was 
penned  sound  in  mind,  fully  possessing  all  his  faculties,  and 
still  engaged  in  the  active  pursuits  of  life  —  the  same  Peter 
Cooper  who  died  "full  of  years  and  honors,"  sincerely  mourned 
by  a  great  nation,  and  wept  for  by  thousands  who  had  been 
benefited  by  his  wise  generosity. 

Mr.  Cooper,  named  Peter,  after  the  Apostle,  because  his 
father  devoutly  believed  he  would  "  come  to  something,"  was 
born  in  what  was  then  known  as  Little  Dock  Street,  near 
Quincy  Slip,  now  Water  Street,  New  York,  on  the  12th  of 
February,  1791.  His  father,  an  earnest  advocate  of  the  cause 
of  American  Independence,  served  as  a  lieutenant  in  the  pa- 
triot army,  and  at  the  close  of  the  war  returned  to  New  York, 
and,  commencing  the  manufacture  of  hats  in  a  small  way, 
soon  accumulated  what  was  in  those  days  a  considerable  prop- 
erty. Like  a  great  many  other  good  people,  however,  he  was 
not  content  to  let  well  enough  alone,  and,  instead  of  attending 
to  his  rapidly-increasing  business  in  the  city,  he  spent  much 
of  his  time  in  seeking  for  an  opportunity  to  establish  himself 
in  the  country.  At  last  the  opportunity  came.  He  bound  him- 
self in  £100  sterling  to  take  a  house  at  Peekskill,  and  to  that 


The  People's  Friend.  79 

place — which  was  believed  to  have  a  great  future — the  family 
moved.  At  first  everything  went  well.  A  small  hat  factory 
was  established,  in  addition  to  a  country  store  for  the  sale  of 
general  merchandise,  and  customers  came  from  all  the  country 
round.  Then,  in  his  prosperity,  Peter's  father,  who  was  an 
earnest  Methodist,  built  a  church,  and  invited  all  the  travel- 
ling Methodist  ministers  to  make  his  house  their  stopping- 
place.  They  were  all  travellers  in  those  days,  were  quite  as 
noted  for  their  healthy  appetites  as  they  are  to-day ;  and  not 
being  slow  to  take  advantage  of  the  invitation  given  them, 
the  Cooper  estate  was  soon  overrun,  not  only  with  travelling 
preachers,  but  with  the  hungry  horses  upon  which  they  made 
their  journeys.  To  supply  the  wants  of  their  visitors  the  ut- 
most resources  of  the  family  were  taxed ;  money  was  scarce ; 
the  farmers  and  others  who  dealt  at  the  store  were  unable  to 
pay  cash  for  their  provisions  or  hats ;  the  good-hearted  and 
somewhat  improvident  Mr.  Cooper  trusted  them,  and  soon 
found  that  his  little  fortune  was  rapidly  dwindling  away. 
Still,  he  and  his  wife  worked  hard  to  make  both  ends  meet, 
and  even  little  Peter,  when  not  higher  than  the  table,  was 
made  to  do  what  he  could  toward  earning  his  daily  bread. 
He  was  employed  in  the  hat  factory,  and  when  less  than  eight 
years  of  age  was  engaged  through  most  of  the  day  in  pulling 
the  hair  out  of  the  rabbit-skins,  from  which  the  hat-pulp  was 
afterward  to  be  formed.  Always  quick  to  learn,  it  Was  not 
long  before  he  could  make  every  part  of  a  hat.  He  was  of 
great  assistance  to  the  family  even  at  this  early  age;  but  still 
his  father  did  not  succeed,  and,  to  better  his  fortunes,  he  com- 
menced the  brewing  of  ale. 

It  does  not  appear  that  the  new  business  was  objected  to  by 
his  Methodist  friends ;  but  he  was  not  successful,  and  just  as 
Peter  was  beginning  to  get  an  insight  into  the  process  of  mak- 
ing the  liquor  the  brewery  was  sold,  and  the  family — by  slow 
stages,  through  the  wild  country,  over  the  rough  roads  then  in 


So  Twelve  Americans. 

existence,  and  not  altogether  free  from  fear  of  Indians — moved 
to  CatsMll.  Here  it  was  thought  that  a  brick  factory  might 
succeed,  and  Peter's  father — he  was  apparently  ready  to  rush 
into  almost  any  speculation  —  immediately  established  one. 
The  boy  worked  hard  at  this  new  trade,  carrying  and  handling 
the  bricks  during  the  drying  process,  and  in  every  other  way 
possible  aiding  the  family.  Still  they  found  themselves  grow- 
ing poorer  and  pooi'er,  and  in  the  end,  paying  their  debts  with 
money  furnished  by  Peter's  grandmother,  who  had  a  little 
property  in  New  York,  they  went  back  to  the  city  ;  and  cross- 
ing the  East  Piiver  in  an  open  row-boat  (the  only  means  of 
transportation),  settled  in  Brooklyn,  then  a  village  of  about  two 
thousand  inhabitants.  Here  the  brewing  business  was  again 
commenced  ;  but  again  it  was  a  failure,  and  once  more  the  fam- 
ily was  obliged  to  move — this  time  to  Newburg-on-the- Hudson, 
establishing  there  a  brewery,  which,  owing  mainly  to  Peter's 
hard  work  and  good  management,  became  a  partial  success. 

The  boy  was  now  in  his  sixteenth  year.  From  the  day  of 
his  earliest  recollection  he  had  been  engaged  in  a  hard,  at 
times  almost  a  desperate,  struggle  for  existence.  He  had  at- 
tended school  for  only  two  quarters — had  never  known  what  it 
was  to  have  a  holiday ;  in  short,  had  spent  the  wdiole  of  his 
young  life  in  one  unceasing  effort  to  earn  a  living.  It  is  not 
to  be  wondered  at  that,  reared  in  this  fashion,  he  began  to 
think  that  money-getting  was  the  one  great  object  of  life.  At 
all  events,  he  at  this  time  began  to  develop  quite  a  talent  for 
hoarding  his  small  earnings,  and  after  long  scraping  and  saving 
of  pennies  he  at  last  found  himself  in  possession  of  ten  dollars. 
This  seemed  to  him  to  be  an  immense  sum — if  not  a  fortune, 
at  least  the  foundation  for  one — and  he  was  quite  at  a  loss  to 
know  what  use  he  should  put  it  to.  At  length,  acting  under 
the  advice  of  a  relative,  he  invested  every  penny  of  his  hard- 
earned  savings  in  lottery  tickets.  By  doing  so  he  was  taught 
one  of  the  most  wholesome  lessons  of  his  life.     All  his  tickets 


The  People's  Friend.  81 

drew  blanks  :  lie  lost  all  his  money.  From  that  day  Peter 
Cooper  never  trusted  for  profit  to  any  speculation  based  upon 
chance. 

"When  he  was  seventeen  years  of  age  young  Cooper  left  his 
father's  house  and  settled  in  New  York,  intending  to  be  a 
brewer.  Even  at  that  early  age  he  had  many  shrewd  business 
ideas  and  a  keen  appreciation  of  the  temper  of  the  people 
whom  he  hoped  to  make  his  customers.  He  believed  that 
Americans  as  a  class  were  always  willing  to  pay  high  prices  for 
what  they  knew  to  be  an  unusually  good  article,  and,  acting 
upon  this  theory,  it  was  his  intention  to  make  a  richer,  strong- 
er, and  in  every  way  a  better  quality  of  ale  than  any  other 
manufacturer,  and  so  command  an  extent  of  trade  which  had 
not  yet  been  obtained.  In  the  years  which  followed  Mr.  Cooper 
had  many  opportunities  of  putting  this  theory  into  successful 
practice,  but  at  the  time  in  question  he  had  to  forego  his  am- 
bition from  want  of  capital,  and,  instead  of  being  the  proprietor 
of  a  large  brewery,  he  soon  found  himself  apprenticed  to  a 
coach-maker,  who  had  what  was  in  those  days  regarded  as  quite 
an  extensive  establishment.  The  young  men  of  the  present 
would  hardly  regard  the  conditions  of  his  service  as  being  fa- 
vorable ones.  He  was  bound  for  four  years,  and  in  return  for 
his  work  was  to  receive  his  board  and  twenty-five  dollars  a 
year,  with  which  to  buy  clothes.  He  was  very  well  satisfied 
with  these  terms,  however,  and  in  after-life  he  looked  back 
upon  his  apprenticeship  in  "Old  New  York"  with  unmingled 
feelings  of  pleasure. 

The  city  of  that  day,  as  Mr.  Cooper  in  quaint  and  graphic 
language  frequently  described  it,  gave  but  little  promise  of  be- 
ing the  great  metropolis  of  the  present.  Chambers  Street  was 
then  the  northern  limit  of  the  town,  all  the  ground  above  that 
point  being  laid  out  in  farms.  The  Battery  was  the  fashionable 
quarter,  inhabited  only  by  the  families  of  well-to-do  merchants, 
bankers,  and  foreign  consuls,  who   at  that  time   cut   quite   a 

4* 


82  Twelve  Americans. 

figure  in  New  York  society.  A  small  fleet  of  coasting  sloops, 
with  an  occasional  Dutch  or  English  trading  vessel,  appeared 
lonely  and  out  of  place  in  the  harbor  now  filled  with  the  navies 
of  the  world.  The  City  Hall,  built  some  years  after,  with  a 
back-wall  of  ugly  brown-stone,  because  it  was  thought  the  city 
would  never  extend  beyond  it,  was  not  then  thought  of.  The 
City  Hall  Park  was  a  cabbage-garden  to  the  Poor-house,  an  in- 
significant building,  on  Chambers  Street.  The  Government  of 
the  city  was  conducted  in  the  Town -house,  or  old  Federal 
Building,  wdiich  occupied  the  site  of  the  present  Sub-Treasury, 
on  Wall  Street,  facing  Broad.  Wooden  fences  of  the  most 
primitive  character  appeared  on  Broadway  above  Reade  Street. 
There  were  no  stone  or  brick  buildings  above  Fulton  Street. 
All  the  business  of  the  place  was  done  on  lower  Broadway, 
Qnincy  Slip,  and  the  streets  adjoining.  St.  Paul's  Church-yard 
was  what  may  be  called  the  aristocratic  bnrying-ground,  and 
"the  great  Empire  City  of  the  young  Republic"  was  protected 
by  a  wooden  fort,  built  near  what  is  now  the  Castle  Garden. 
Subsequently,  during  a  terribly  cold  winter,  in  which  wood  sold 
for  eighteen  dollars  a  cord — coal  was  then  almost  unknown 
in  New  York — the  fort  was  torn  down  by  order  of  the  authori- 
ties, and  the  great  beams  of  which  it  was  constructed  given  to 
the  poor  people  to  keep  them  from  freezing. 

Even  in  its  infancy,  however,  New  York  seems  to  have  been 
well  supplied  with  low  drinking-shops,  dance-houses,  and  other 
resorts  of  a  questionable  character.  Upon  his  arrival  in  the 
city  young  Cooper  was  at  once  made  acquainted  with  the  ex- 
istence of  these  haunts ;  their  pleasures  were  described  to  him 
in  glowing  terms,  and  he  was  urged  to  be  one  of  a  party  of 
jolly  apprentices  who  nightly  visited  them.  He  persistently 
refused  all  such  invitations,  deterred  as  much  by  a  studious 
and  retiring  disposition  and  a  constitution  weakened  by  hard 
work,  as  by  a  knowledge  that  one  of  his  fellow-apprentices, 
a  boy  of  sixteen,  was  even  then  dying  from  diseases  contracted 


The  People's  Friend.  83 

during  the  midnight  debauches  in  which  the  young  workmen 
of  the  city  then  delighted.  So,  early  in  his  career,  Peter 
Cooper  was  looked  upon  as  "a  milksop"  who  had  no  "go"  in 
him,  and  he  was  left  to  spend  his  evenings  as  he  liked.  He 
made  good  use  of  his  time.  While  the  other  apprentices  were 
engaged  in  dancing  with  loose  characters,  in  witnessing  cock- 
fights, or  drinking  the  fiery  liquor  brought  over  in  the  Holland 
traders,  he  retired  to  a  little  room  in  a  back  street,  which  had 
been  placed  at  his  disposal  by  his  grandmother,  and,  braving 
the  jeers  of  his  companions — which  in  the  commencement  were 
showered  upon  him  thick  and  fast — devoted  his  evenings  to 
study,  to  coach-panel  carving,  and  other  light  work,  from  which 
he  realized  what  to  him  seemed  a  handsome  profit. 

When  he  was  twenty-one  years  of  age,  and  had  reached  the 
end  of  an  apprenticeship  spent  in  this  way,  the  young  man 
went  to  his  employer  to  bid  him  good-bye.  A  surprise  was 
in  store  for  him,  for,  instead  of  bidding  him  God-speed,  as  lie 
had  expected,  the  master,  who  for  a  long  time  had  been  a  silent 
witness  of  all  his  doings,  said,  in  the  plain,  blunt  language  of 
the  old-time  mechanic, 

"  Peter,  you  have  done  good  work  for  me.  I  will  build  you 
a  shop  and  set  you  up  in  business  for  yourself.  You  may  pay 
me  when  you  can." 

The  offer  was  a  tempting  one,  but,  with  many  thanks,  the 
young  man  declined  it.  He  had  no  capital,  and  had  made  up 
his  mind  that  he  would  not  commence  life  by  burdening  him- 
self with  debt.  He  never  regretted  this  action  or  the  resolu- 
tion upon  which  it  was  based. 


84  Twelve  Americans. 

II. 

ALONE   IX   THE   WORLD,  SEEKING   A  FORTUNE. 

Twenty-one  years  old,  small  in  stature,  still  -weak  from 
overwork  in  his  childhood,  a  master  of  one  trade,  with  a  good 
knowledge  of  three  others,  an  education  picked  up  in  scraps  at 
odd  times,  and  having  all  his  earthly  possessions  in  his  pocket 
and  in  a  bundle  on  his  back,  Peter  Cooper  left  the  coach- 
factory  to  seek  his  fortune.  He  knew  that  he  must  depend 
upon  his  own  exertions  for  success,  and  he  determined  that 
he  would  exert  himself  to  the  uttermost. 

Without  loss  of  time,  and  believing  that  he  could  have  no 
future  in  New  York  City,  he  went  to  Hempstead,  Long  Island, 
where  his  brother  lived,  and  was  there  soon  engaged  to  work 
for  a  man  who  was  making  a  machine  for  shearing  cloth.  At 
this  business  he  remained  three  years,  earning  Si  50  a  day, 
which  at  that  time  was  regarded  as  very  high  wages. 

At  this  period  in  his  career  Mr.  Cooper  married,*  believing 
that  he  could  save  more  while  supporting  a  wife  than  he  could 
in  the  effort  to  pay  for  the  amusements  of  a  young  single 

*  Mr.  Edward  Cooper,  ex-Mayor  of  Xew  York,  is  a  son  of  Mr.  Cooper, 
and  Congressman  Abram  S.  Hewitt  his  son-in-law.  Four  of  his  children 
died  in  childhood.  His  wife,  to  whom  he  was  fondly  attached,  died  in 
1869,  on  the  fifty-sixth  anniversary  of  their  wedding-day.  Of  her  Dr.  Bel- 
lows, in  the  funeral  sermon,  said :  "  You  behold  here  no  feeble  relic  of 
dainty  idleness  and  unstrung  fibres,  and  soft  and  tended  weakness.  Here 
is  what  is  left  of  a  frame  that  has  used  every  nerve  and  tissue  in  human 
service,  household  cares,  diligent  and  painstaking  duty  to  husband,  chil- 
dren, and  dependents.  Here  are  the  ashes  of  a  woman  of  the  Puritan  and 
Huguenot  spirit — one  who  knew  nothing  about  the  modern  discontent  with 
woman's  sphere ;  nothing  about  the  weariness  of  leisure  and  the  lack  of 
adequate  occupation ;  nothing  about  the  inequality  of  her  woman's  lot,  or 
the  monotony  and  oppression  of  a  wife's  and  mother's  duties.  She  found 
the  place  Providence  gave  her  large  enough  for  all  her  gifts,  tasking  and 
rewarding  all  her  efforts,  and  she  did  her  full  part  in  making,  keeping, 
and  spending  her  husband's  fortune." 


The  People'' s  Friend.  85 

man.  He  never  had  any  reason  to  regret  his  action,  and  to 
the  last  spoke  of  his  wife  as  a  helpmate  who  did  most  to 
bring  about  the  success  which  crowned  his  later  efforts,  and  a 
companion  who  aided  most  in  making  his  life  a  happy  one. 
At  the  close  of  his  engagement  at  Hempstead  he  found  him- 
self in  possession  of  money  sufficient  to  buy  the  right  for  the 
State  of  New  York  to  manufacture  a  patent  cloth -shearing 
machine,  and  commenced  to  work  on  his  own  account.  The 
business  proved  to  be  a  very  successful  one,  the  first  money  he 
received  for  the  sale  of  his  own  implements  being  from  Mr. 
Vassar,  of  Poughkeepsie,  who  afterward  founded  Vassar  Col- 
lege, in  that  city.  This  and  subsequent  transactions  put  him 
in  possession  of  a  capital  of  $500 — a  sum  which  he  regarded 
as  almost  a  fortune.  He  was  more  than  elated  at  his  success, 
and  was  about  to  embark  in  more  extensive  enterprises,  when 
his  joy  was  turned  to  mourning.  Returning  from  Poughkeep- 
sie to  New  York,  he  stopped  at  Newburg,  where  his  father  was 
still  living,  and  found  the  family  in  the  deepest  embarrassment. 
The  head  of  the  house  was  loaded  down  with  debts  which  he 
was  unable  to  pay.  In  his  old  age  the  elder  Cooper  was  even 
more  improvident  than  he  had  been  at  the  time  when  he  spent 
his  substance  in  supplying  dishonest  farmers  and  in  entertain- 
ing travelling  Methodist  preachers.  The  officers  of  the  law 
were  on  the  point  of  selling  him  out  of  house  and  home ;  and 
young  Peter,  with  that  generosity  which  was  always  one  of 
his  leading  characteristics,  at  once  determined  that,  if  neces- 
sary, he  would  devote  the  whole  of  his  little  fortune  to  save 
the  family  from  ruin  and  disgrace.  Without  hesitation  he 
gave  the  money  which  he  had  just  received  from  Mr.  Vassar 
and  other  sources  to  pay  his  father's  most  pressing  obliga- 
tions, leaving  himself  with  barely  sufficient  means  to  purchase 
materials  with  which  to  go  on  making  new  machines.  In  ad- 
dition to  this,  he  became  surety  for  his  father's  debts  which 
had  not  yet  matured,  and,  as  they  fell  clue,  he  paid  them  off  to 


86  Twelve  Americans. 

the  last  penny.  In  this  way  he  saved  his  father  from  failing 
in  business.  It  was  subsequently  his  boast  that  during  an 
active  business  career  of  more  than  sixty  years,  in  the  course 
of  which  he  sometimes  had  as  many  as  twenty-five  hundred 
persons  in  his  employment,  he  never  knew  a  week  or  a  month 
when  every  man  who  worked  for  him  did  not  get  his  pay 
when  it  was  due. 

His  fidelity  to  his  family  was  soon  rewarded  as  it  deserved 
to  be.  He  perfected  a  very  important  improvement  in  the 
machine  for  shearing  cloth,  which  made  it  the  most  desirable 
one  in  the  market;  and,  as  the  war  of  1812  was  then  at  its 
height,  and  all  commerce  with  England  stopped,  a  large  profit 
was  made  in  the  business.  At  the  close  of  the  war,  however, 
the  demand  for  the  machines  ceased,  and  Mr.  Cooper  gave  up 
the  trade.  By  this  time  he  had  acquired  sufficient  money  to 
warrant  him  in  buying  a  twenty-years'  lease  of  two  houses  and 
six  lots  of  ground  in  that  portion  of  the  city  now  occupied  by 
the  Bible  Bouse,  opposite  Cooper  Union.  On  the  ground  so 
obtained  he  erected  four  large  wooden  dwelling-houses,  which 
were  then  styled  country  residences,  and  himself  engaged  in 
the  grocery  business,  which  he  conducted  for  three  years.  He 
was  not  content  with  this  single  occupation,  however,  and  soon 
afterward  bought  a  glue  factory,  with  all  its  buildings  and 
stock,  on  a  leasehold  right  for  twenty-one  years.  The  estab- 
lishment was  situated  on  what  was  then  known  as  the  Old 
Middle  Road,  between  Thirty-first  and  Thirty -fourth  Streets; 
and  there  Mr.  Cooper  continued  to  manufacture  glue,  oil,  whit- 
ing, prepared  chalk,  and  isinglass,  until  his  lease  of  the  prop- 
erty expired.  Subsequently  he  bought  ten  acres  of  ground  on 
Maspeth  Avenue,  Brooklyn,  on  which  he  erected  factories  of 
the  most  extensive  and  approved  character.  In  them  he  con- 
tinued to  be  interested  until  the  day  of  his  death. 

At  this  time  all  Mr.  Cooper's  enterprises  prospered.  He  ac- 
cumulated money  with  astonishing  rapidity.     Always  shrewd. 


The  People's  Friend.  87 

but  nevertheless  liberal  in  his  expenditures,  he  obtained  almost 
unlimited  credit,  and  was  fast  becoming  recognized  as  one  of 
the  most  extensive  business  men  in  the  country.  In  1828, 
with  cash  and  credit  so  obtained,  he  bought  three  thousand 
acres  of  land  within  the  limits  of  the  city  of  Baltimore,  paying 
for  it  $105,000.  He  was  induced  to  embark  in  this  venture 
by  two  plausible  gentlemen,  who  represented  that  they  had 
large  means,  but,  after  paying  his  share  of  the  purchase-money, 
he  found  that  they  had  misrepresented  their  capital  and  re- 
sources, and  that  the  whole  purchase  would  have  to  be  paid  for 
by  himself.  In  this  transaction  he  secured  the  whole  of  the 
shore  line  of  Baltimore,  from  Fell's  Point  Dock,  for  a  distance 
of  three  miles.  When  he  made  the  purchase  the  people  of 
the  Monument  City  were  in  the  midst  of  great  excitement, 
aroused  by  the  promise  of  the  early  completion  of  the  Balti- 
more and  Ohio  Railroad,  which  some  time  before  had  been 
originated  by  a  subscription  of  five  dollars  per  share.  During 
the  first  year  of  the  company's  operations,  however,  the  expen- 
diture had  been  greater  than  the  amount  of  money  subscribed, 
and  it  was  found  that,  because  of  the  many  sharp  curves  and 
heavy  grades  to  be  overcome  on  the  road-bed,  a  much  larger 
sum  of  money  would  be  necessary  than  was  at  first  estimated. 
On  this  discovery  the  principal  stockholders  became  so  dis- 
couraged, that  they  declared  they  would  rather  lose  what  funds 
they  had  already  subscribed,  than  throw  more  good  money 
after  bad. 

Mr.  Cooper,  who  was  greatly  interested  in  the  enterprise, 
and  who  hoped  by  the  success  of  the  road  largely  to  increase 
the  value  of  his  property,  remonstrated  with  them,  but  to  no 
purpose.  They  were  assured  that  it  would  never  be  practicable 
and  profitable  to  run  steam-engines  around  the  many  abrupt 
turns  which  were  necessary  and  unavoidable  on  the  road.  See- 
ing that  nothing  else  would  satisfy  them,  Mr.  Cooper  made  up 
his  mind  to  construct  an  eng-ine  which  would  demonstrate  the 


88  Twelve  Americans. 

feasibility  of  running  trains  around  the  objectionable  curves. 
He  set  to  work  with  all  the  energy  of  which  he  was  capable, 
and  in  a  short  time  had  on  the  track  an  engine  which  he  be- 
lieved would  serve  his  purposes.  With  much  difficulty  he 
next  brought  the  stockholders  together,  and  embarked  thirty- 
six  of  them  in  a  small  box  car.  Six  others  were  given  scats 
on  the  locomotive,  which  carried  its  own  fuel  and  water. 
Having  to  overcome  a  grade  of  eighteen  feet  to  the  mile, 
and  turn  all  the  short  curves  about  the  Point  of  Hocks,  the 
engine  succeeded  in  making  a  distance  of  thirteen  miles  in 
one  hour  and  twelve  minutes,  and  made  the  return  run  from 
Ellicott's  Mills  to  Baltimore  in  fifty-seven  minutes.  The  Bal- 
timore and  Ohio  Railroad  was  thus  saved  from  bankruptcy 
and  abandonment,  and  from  that  day  became  one  of  the  great 
corporations  of  the  country. 

While  Mr.  Cooper  was  thus  successful  in  saving  the  stock- 
holders of  the  road  from  ruin,  however,  he  was  not  equally 
fortunate  in  disposing,  at  a  profit,  of  the  property  in  Balti- 
more which  he  had  been  induced  to  purchase,  and  in  order 
to  make  it  pay  something  he  determined  to  build  iron  works 
upon  it.  Four  or  five  hundred  tons  of  iron  ore  were  mined 
at  Lazzaretto  Point,  near  by,  and  he  cut  wood  off  the  land  to 
burn  into  charcoal,  to  be  used  in  manufacturing  charcoal-iron. 
In  his  efforts  to  make  iron  in  this  way  Mr.  Cooper  erected  a 
number  of  large  kilns,  at  that  time  of  novel  construction  and 
design.  They  were  circular  in  form,  hooped  around  with  iron 
at  the  top,  arched  over,  in  order  to  make  a  tight  chamber,  in 
which  to  place  the  wood,  and  with  single  bricks  left  out,  that 
the  fire  might  be  smothered  when  the  wood  was  sufficiently 
burned.  This  contrivance  nearly  cost  Mr.  Cooper  his  life. 
After  having  on  one  occasion  burned  the  wood  in  one  of  the 
kilns,  and  believing  that  the  fire  had  been  entirely  smothered 
out,  a  number  of  his  workmen  attempted  to  take  the  charcoal 
from  the  chamber.     When   it   had  been  about  half  removed 


The  People^s  Friend.  89 

the  coal  itself  toot  fire,  and  the  workmen,  after  carrying  water 
for  some  time  in  the  hope  of  extinguishing  it,  at  length  gave 
up  in  despair.  Then  Mr.  Cooper  himself  went  to  the  door  of 
the  kiln  to  see  what  could  be  done,  and  had  hardly  reached  it 
when  the  gas  generated  by  the  coal  took  fire  and  enveloped 
him  in  flame.  An  explosion  followed,  and  he  was  hurled  sev- 
eral feet  away,  his  eyebrows,  hair,  and  whiskers  were  burned 
off,  and  he  narrowly  escaped  with  his  life.  In  later  years  Mr. 
Cooper  suffered  a  somewhat  similar  accident.  lie  had  always 
been  a  firm  believer  in  the  theory  that  at  some  time  the  air 
would  be  successfully  navigated,  and  in  experimenting  with  gas 
for  the  inflation  of  a  balloon  for  that  purpose  his  eyes  were 
so  severely  injured  by  an  explosion  that  he  was  obliged  to 
remain  in  a  darkened  room  for  five  months. 

Notwithstanding  this  accident,  however,  he  was  to  the  last 
fully  convinced  that  in  the  not  distant  future  a  gas-filled  bal- 
loon, or  other  contrivance,  will  be  perfected  or  invented,  which 
will  make  it  possible  to  navigate  the  air  with  safety  and 
success. 

After  the  accident  at  his  Baltimore  furnaces,  and  seeing  the 
difficulty  which  attended  the  manufacture  of  iron  there,  Mr. 
Cooper  determined  to  dispose  of  the  property.  Making  this 
announcement,  he  was  offered  something  more  than  $90,000 
for  it  by  a  firm  of  Boston  men.  He  accepted  this  offer;  what 
is  still  known  as  the  Canton  Iron  Company  was  established, 
and  he  took  a  considerable  portion  of  his  pay  in  stock,  at 
$45  a  share,  the  par  value  being  $100  per  share.  At  this 
point  the  "luck"  of  the  property,  if  I  may  use  the  expres- 
sion, changed.  The  stock  of  the  new  company  commenced 
to  rise  in  value,  and  continued  to  go  up  in  the  market  un- 
til it  was  quoted  at  $230  per  share.  Then  Mr.  Cooper  sold 
out,  realizing  an  immense  profit.  Subsequently  he  engaged  on 
the  most  extensive  scale  in  the  manufacture  of  iron  in  New 
York,  of  wire  in  Trenton,  conducting  blast-furnaces  at  Phillips- 


9<d  Twelve  Americans. 

burg  and  Andovcr,  and  rolling  and  planing  mills,  wire  works, 
mining,  and  blast-furnaces  in  various  parts  of  Pennsylvania  and 
New  Jersey.  At  the  same  time  he  continued  to  conduct  his 
glue  factories  on  a  most  extensive  scale  in  and  about  New 
York,  and  in  time  was  ranked  among  the  millionnaires  of  the 
country. 

III. 
AN   ALDERMAN   IN  THE   OLDEN  TIME. 

While  Mr.  Cooper  was  thus  occupied  with  business  pur- 
suits the  respectable  people  who  lived  in  the  neighborhood  of 
his  glue  factories  on  the  old  Middle  Road,  in  New  York,  de- 
termined to  make  him  their  candidate  for  Alderman.*  At  that 
time  an  Alderman  of  New  York  served  without  pay,  but  was 
called  upon  to  vote  for  Mayor,  and  occasionally  to  sit  as  Judge 
in  the  Court  of  Common  Pleas,  and  for  these  reasons  was  re- 
garded as  a  person  of  much  importance.  In  addition  to  this, 
at  the  time  referred  to  the  Catholic  excitement  ran  very  high. 
The  priests  were  making  the  most  determined  effort  to  secure 
a  part  of  the  public  moneys  for  the  support  of  the  parochial 
schools,  and  the  best  elements  in  the  then  reputable  Demo- 
cratic Party,  to  which  Mr.  Cooper  belonged,  were  very  anxious 
to  defeat  them.  With  this  object  in  view  a  committee  was 
appointed  to  tender  him  the  nomination.  He  was  found  at 
his  glue  factory,  and  the  committee  at  once  made  known  its 
business. 

The  chairman,  in  a  very  solemn  fashion,  addressing  Mr. 
Cooper,  said, 

"  Sir,  representing  the  citizens  of  this  ward  of  the  city  of 

*  From  the  resolutions  of  respect  passed  by  the  Common  Council  of 
New  York  at  the  time  of  Mr.  Cooper's  death  it  appears  that  he  served  for 
one  )7ear  as  Alderman,  and  for  three  years  as  "Assistant  Alderman."  The 
years  of  his  service  were  1820,  1829,  1830,  and  1840. 


The  People's  Friend.  91 

New  York,  and  more  particularly  the  respectable  Democratic 
tax-payers,  we  come  to  offer  you  the  position  of  Alderman." 

"Alderman!  Alderman!"  exclaimed  the  greatly-astonished 
Mr.  Cooper.  "  But  I  have  my  business  to  attend  to.  I  don't 
want  to  be  Alderman." 

"  But  you  must  be,"  said  the  solemn  chairman  of  the  com- 
mittee. 

"But  I  won't  be,"  replied  the  busy  Mr.  Cooper,  just  a  little 
out  of  temper;  and  the  committee  retired. 

The  next  day  a  still  larger  delegation  came  and  urged  the 
nomination  upon  him.     In  desperation  he  said, 

"  I'll  give  $5000  to  your  election  fund  if  you  let  me  off." 
But  they  refused  the  offer,  and  the  unwilling  Mr.  Cooper  was 
forced  into  the  campaign  and  a  life  for  which  he  had  no  in- 
clination. 

In  those  days  the  Fire  Department — made  up  for  the  most 
part  of  reckless  young  men,  who  spent  their  time  in  "  bunk- 
houses"  and  in  running  to  fires,  which  were  now  and  then  of 
their  own  making  —  were  largely  in  control  of  the  political 
machinery  of  New  York.  They  did  not  endorse  Mr.  Coopers 
nomination ;  but,  in  spite  of  their  opposition  and  that  of  the 
priests,  he  was  elected  to  the  Council,  and  took  his  seat  as  the 
representative  of  the  Twelfth  Ward,  which  then  extended  from 
the  Bible  House  to  King's  Bridge. 

While  he  was  a  member  of  the  board  Mr.  Van  Buren,  at 
the  close  of  his  term  as  President  of  the  United  States,  passed 
through  New  York,  and  was  suitably  received  by  the  city  Gov- 
ernment. Alderman  Cooper  was  designated  as  a  committee 
of  one  to  take  particular  care  of  the  distinguished  guest,  and 
acting  in  that  capacity  took  the  ex-President  to  what  was  then 
regarded  as  his  country  house,  on  the  corner  of  Twenty-eighth 
Street  and  Fourth  Avenue.  During  the  evening  Mr.  Van 
Buren,  in  speaking  of  the  politics  of  the  time,  said, 

"  There  is  no  doubt  that  I  owe  my  defeat  to  my  advocacy 


92  Twelve  Americans. 

of  the  establish  merit  of  Sub-Treasuries  as  against  the  United 
States  Banks,  but  I  am  sure  that  if  the  new  plan  has  four 
years'  trial  it  will  prove  to  be  very  popular." 

How  correct  this  judgment  was  need  not  now  be  detailed. 

During  Mr.  Cooper's  term  as  Alderman  the  Board  decided 
that  the  city  should  be  supplied  with  a  clock,  to  be  placed' 
upon  the  newly-erected  City  Hall,  and  he  was  appointed  to 
contract  for  and  superintend  the  work.  The  original  proposi- 
tion of  the  Aldermen  was,  that  the  clock  should  be  placed  in 
the  low,  square,  box-like  cupola  which  at  that  time  disfigured 
the  structure.  This  Mr.  Cooper  believed  to  be  a  mistake,  and 
it  is  to  his  efforts  that  the  people  of  the  metropolis  owe  the 
erection  of  the  round  superstructure  which  now  contains  the 
City  Hall  clock. 

Alderman  Cooper,  later  in  his  term,  made  strenuous  efforts 
to  benefit  the  city  in  more  substantial  manner  than  by  enter- 
taining Presidents  and  providing  for  the  construction  of  clocks, 
but  he  was  not  successful.  At  the  time  in  question  the  city 
was  protected  by  what  was  then  known  as  the  "  Watch." 
This  guard,  which  in  cases  of  emergency  was  tantamount  to 
no  guard  at  all,  was  made  up  of  dock --workers,  mechanics, 
street-sweepers,  and  daily  laborers  of  all  sorts,  who  for  a  shil- 
ling or  two  a  night  volunteered  to  patrol  the  city.  Mr.  Cooper 
saw  that  under  this  loose  system  thieves  were  in  reality  in- 
vited to  commit  depredations,  and  did  his  utmost  to  have  it 
changed.  Among  other  efforts  in  the  same  direction  he  caused 
a  petition  to  be  sent  to  the  Legislature  asking  for  the  forma- 
tion of  a  paid  Fire  and  Police  Department,  the  members  of 
which  should  work  in  concert,  and  have  co-ordinate  power. 
The  appointment  of  this  force  of  police  and  firemen  was,  under 
his  proposition,  taken  away  from  the  Mayor,  with  whom  it  had 
previously  in  part  rested,  and  given  to  a  commission  of  citizens, 
which,  it  was  hoped,  could  be  kept  entirely  aloof  from  the  in- 
fluence of  politics.     Under  this  commission  Mr.  Cooper's  prop- 


The  PeopWs  Friend.  93 

osition  provided  for  the  erection  of  elevated  water-tanks  in 
various  parts  of  the  city,  to  which  force-pumps  were  to  be  at- 
tached, and  which,  in  case  of  extensive  fires,  would  doubtless 
have  been  a  great  improvement  upon  the  primitive  hand  fire- 
engines  of  the  time.  The  petition  asking  for  these  changes 
was  warmly  pressed,  and  subsequently  resulted  in  bringing 
about  a  change  in  the  Police  Department.  As  it  is  perhaps 
unnecessary  to  state,  however,  the  volunteer  firemen  continued 
to  hold  sway  for  many  years  afterward. 

They  were  remarkable  men  in  their  way,  these  same  volun- 
teer firemen — remarkably  loyal  to  their  organization,  remark- 
ably pugnacious,  and  remarkably  brave.  The  reckless  fashion 
in  which  they  exposed  themselves  to  danger,  and  the  slight 
value  which  some  of  them  placed  upon  their  lives,  is  well 
shown  by  an  incident  which  occurred  during  the  great  fire  of 
December,  1835.  This  memorable  conflagration  broke  out  on 
a  very  cold  but  clear  and  starlit  night.  The  first  alarm  was 
struck  from  the  City  Hall,  the  principal  bell-tower  in  the  then 
Fifth  Fire  District.  "Thirty-four"  engine  Avas  the  first  on  the 
scene,  and  wheeled  into  line  at  "  the  suction,"  foot  of  Wall 
Street.  Four  other  engines  rapidly  took  up  "hose  connection," 
until  at  last  the  fire  was  reached.  It  spread  rapidly,  and  broke 
through  the  block.  Another  "line"  was  formed,  and  in  the 
new  distribution  of  engines  "Thirty-four"  was  placed  at  the 
head,  next  to  the  fire,  which  by  this  time  had  reached  the  Mer- 
chants' Exchange,  now  the  Custom-house.  A  number  of  the 
men  of  that  engine  went  into  the  building  to  "  tend  the  pipe." 
While  they  were  so  engaged  the  walls  gave  evidence  of  totter- 
ing, and  their  foreman  cried  out, 

"  Back,  boys !  back  out !    She  is  coming  down.    Back  out !" 
Seeing  their  danger,  they  all  obeyed — at  least,  it  was  so  sup- 
posed; but  one  of  them  as  he  was  hurrying  from  the  building 
dropped  his  leather  fire-cap.     He  turned  to  pick  it  up.     The 
walls  fell,  and  he  was  never  again  seen  alive. 


94  Twelve  Americans. 

Four  days  afterward,  Lis  brother,  sauntering  leisurely  into 
"  Thirty-four's  *'  engine-house,  casually  said,  referring  to  him, 

"Any  of  you  fellows  seen  Bill  lately?" 

"  No  ;  ain't  he  home?"'  asked  some  one. 

"Ain't  been  home  since  the  big  fire,"  was  the  brother's  re- 
ply.    "  Thought  he  must  been  laying  round  the  engine-house." 

Upon  this,  a  closer  inquiry  was  instituted,  and  it  was  discov- 
ered that  the  unfortunate  fireman  had  not  been  seen  after  the 
Merchants'  Exchange  fell.  A  search  was  made,  and  his  body, 
without  a  scar  or  wound  upon  it,  was  found  between  two  gran- 
ite pillars  in  the  ruins  of  the  building.  He  had  been  suffo- 
cated. 

The  fidelity  of  the  volunteers  to  a  popular  commander  may 
be  illustrated  by  the  following  incidents. 

After  "the  great  fire  of  '35''  there  was  loud  clamor  for  the 
removal  of  "Jim"  Gulick,  who  was  then  and  for  some  time  had 
been  Chief  Engineer  of  the  department.  It  was  claimed  that 
he  had  so  mismanaged  his  force  that  the  fire  could  not  be 
brought  under  control,  and  that  consequently  the  city  had  suf- 
fered a  loss  of  813,000,000. 

In  the  following  spring  the  Democrats  carried  the  city  elec- 
tion, and  obtained  a  majority  in  the  Board  of  Aldermen. 
John  Iiyker,  who  was  Gulick1  s  first-assistant,  was  an  influential 
member  of  the  Democratic  Party,  and  the  Aldermen  at  once 
set  about  securing  his  appointment  as  Chief.  For  a  time, 
however,  because  of  the  estimation  in  which  Gulick  was  held 
by  the  firemen,  it  was  not  thought  expedient  to  displace  him. 
So  the  matter  stood  until  one  day  in  the  early  summer  of 
1836,  when — -with  the  fire-bell  over  their  heads  in  the  City 
Hall  tower  ringing  out  an  alarm — the  Aldermen  met  together, 
removed  Gulick,  and  appointed  Ryker  in  his  place. 

The  fire  for  which  the  alarm  was  being  rung  was  at  Houston 
Street  and  the  East  River;  and  the  firemen,  headed  by  their 
popular  Chief,  worked  so  well  that  it  was  soon  under  control. 


The  People's  Friend.  95 

Just  as  the  last  smouldering  embers  were  being  extinguished, 
however,  and  the  hose  "reeled  up"  by  the  companies  which 
were  relieved,  Ryker  came  to  Chief  Gulick  and,  touching  his 
cap  in  salute,  said, 

"  Mr.  Gulick,  I  have  just  been  appointed  Chief  of  the  depart- 
ment.    Here  is  my  warrant.     I  will  take  command  at  this  fire." 

"Very  well,  sir,"  replied  Gulick.    "  I  resign  my  place  to  you." 

Saying  this,  he  reversed  his  fire-cap,  to  indicate  that  he  was 
no  longer  in  command,  and  with  it  so  reversed  walked  down 
the  fire-line  in  front  of  the  men. 

"What's  up  now,  boys?"  cried  one  fireman  to  another. 

There  was  much  surprise  all  along  the  line,  until  at  last  one 
of  the  men  turned  to  Gulick  and  asked  for  orders  in  regard  to 
the  position  of  his  company. 

"  You  must  go  to  Mr.  Ryker  for  your  orders  hereafter," 
replied  Gulick.  "  I  have  turned  my  cap,  and  have  no  farther 
command  in  the  department." 

At  once  the  utmost  indignation  was  expressed  on  all  sides. 
Gulick,  as  has  been  said,  was  highly  esteemed  by  the  men,  and 
the  manner  of  his  removal  was  regarded  as  disgraceful.  The 
firemen  attached  to  every  engine  but  two  stopped  work  and 
turned  their  caps. 

Jnst  then  the  fire  broke  out  afresh  and  threatened  to  destroy 
the  whole  block.  Still  Gulick  and  his  men  stood  idly  by.  The 
fire  grew,  and  great  destruction  was  imminent.  Ryker  went 
down  the  line  and  called  on  the  men  in  vain.  It  seemed  as 
though  the  whole  district  was  to  be  devastated,  and  at  last  in 
despair  the  command  was  given  over  to  Gulick.  Under  his 
direction  the  men  quickly  subdued  the  flames. 

After  the  danger  was  past,  and  Ryker  firmly  established  in 
his  new  position,  two-thirds  of  the  engine  companies  in  the 
city  held  impromptu  meetings,  and  decided  that  they  would 
not  work  under  his  command.  They  ran  their  engines  into 
the  houses  "  tongue  forward,"  covered  their  bright  and  many- 


96  Twelve  Americans. 

colored  "machines"  with  dull  lead  paint,  and  gave  no  atten- 
tion to  the  fire-bells.  Byker  did  his  best  to  organize  a  new 
department,  and  did  succeed  in  establishing  a  number  of  so- 
called  citizens'  companies ;  but  during  the  year  of  his  com- 
mand it  was  well  understood  that  the  city  was  in  constant 
danger  of  destruction  by  fire.  At  the  end  of  the  year,  how- 
ever, Engineer  Anderson  was  made  Chief  of  the  department, 
and  the  old  organizations  went  back  to  work.  Gulick  did  not 
suffer  by  his  removal,  but,  on  the  contrary,  though  running  as 
the  Whig  candidate  for  a  county  office,  received  the  votes  of 
nearly  all  the  Democratic  firemen,  was  elected,  and  so  secured 
to  Tammany  Hall  one  of  the  earliest  and  most  signal  defeats 
suffered  by  that  organization. 

Anderson,  the  new  Chief,  was  popular  among  the  firemen ; 
but,  being  a  strong  Whig,  he  was  naturally  objected  to  by 
the  Democrats ;  and  later  on  they,  to  secure  his  defeat  in  the 
election  for  Chief  Engineer — the  choice  of  that  officer  having 
meantime  been  given  to  the  firemen  themselves — were  instru- 
mental in  establishing  thirty  or  forty  additional  hose-cart  com- 
panies, the  members  of  which  Avere  known  as  "June  Bugs," 
because  it  was  well  understood  that  they  were  to  exist  only  for 
a  week  or  two,  or  until  after  the  election  for  Chief.  But  even 
these  tactics  were  not  successful.  Anderson's  popularity  was 
too  great  to  be  overcome. 

In  connection  with  the  memorable  fire  of  1835  there  was 
one  other  incident  which  even  now  well  merits  narration. 
When  the  conflagration  was  at  its  height  a  woman  appeared 
in  the  street  crying  wildly,  "  My  child  !  my  child  !  For  God's 
sake,  save  my  child  !" 

For  a  time  no  one  responded  to  her  appeal ;  but  at  last  a 
young  New  Hampshire  sailor,  who  was  afterward  known  to  be 
William  Henry  Rindge,  rushed  through  flame  and  smoke  into 
the  building  indicated  by  the  woman,  and  from  it  carried  out 
her  child.     He  gave  the  infant  into  the  arms  of  its  mother, 


The  People'- 's  Friend.  97 

and  then  mysteriously  disappeared  in  the  crowd.  Subsequent- 
ly numerous  advertisements  were  printed  calling  upon  him  to 
reveal  his  identity.  He  never  did  so  until  five  years  later, 
when,  on  the  point  of  death  from  consumption — the  seeds  of 
which  were  sown  during  the  night  of  the  fire — he  in  confi- 
dence revealed  to  his  near  relatives  that  he  was  the  man  for 
whom  so  much  inquiry  had  been  made. 

One  of  the  peculiarities  of  the  old  Fire  Department  was  the 
hospitable  manner  in  which  even  rival  engine  companies  enter- 
tained each  other.  As  the  city  grew  and  the  department  was 
enlarged  it  became  necessai-y  for  the  men — particularly  those 
who  were  attached  to  companies  in  the  down-town  districts, 
where  the  dwellings,  crowded  out  by  stores  and  warehouses, 
were  becoming  few  and  far  between — to  "bunk,"  as  the  term 
went,  in  the  engine-house.  As  a  natural  result  of  this  system 
there  was  much  convivial  association  among  the  members  of 
the  force.  "Amity  Hose,"  one  of  the  "quill"  companies — a 
term  used  to  distinguish  the  more  exclusive  class  of  firemen 
from  the  "roughs" — was  particularly  noted  for  the  extent  and 
frequency  of  its  entertainments.  At  one  of  them  William  M. 
Tweed,  as  the  foreman  of  "  Big  Six,"  was  the  principal  guest, 
and  had  the  bad  taste  to  throw  red  pepper  on  the  stove  in  the 
room  in  which  he  was  received.  This  naturally  had  the  effect 
of  greatly  annoying  his  hosts ;  and  "Dan"  Conover  ("Gentle- 
man Dan"),  who  was  then  .the  foreman  of  the  "  Amity  Hose," 
and  a  leading  "  quill,"  expressed  his  disapprobation  in  such 
strong  language,  that  ever  after  he  and  Tweed  were  bitter  per- 
sonal and  political  enemies. 

Because  of  his  independence  of  character  and  disinclination 
to  allow  the  Fire  Department  to  be  used  as  a  political  machine, 
"  Bob  "  Brown,  a  late  Republican  candidate  for  Sheriff  of  New 
York,  and  the  man  who  introduced  steam  fire-engines  into  the 
city,  was  also  for  many  years  regarded  by  Tweed  as  one  of  his 
bitterest  enemies. 

5 


98  Twelve  Americans. 

The  following  truly  remarkable  fragment,  printed  in  a  city 
paper  years  ago,  well  reflects  the  spirit  of  the  old  time,  when 
Peter  Cooper  was  an  Alderman,  and  the  Volunteer  Fire  De- 
partment a  power  in  New  York : 

"  Summer  is  coming ;  already  spring's  here  ; 
Winter  is  over — at  least  for  a  year. 
"Winter-night  fires  will  roast  us  no  more, 
Freezing  behind  while  we're  broiling  before. 
Pleasanter  duty  awaits  us — but  hush  ! 
What  shall  we  do  with  the  mud  and  the  slush  ? 
Run  through  it — wade  through  it — swim,  if  you  will, 
Like  dear  woman's  love,  it  will  cling  to  us  still ! 

"Isn't  it  pleasant  to  set  out  from  home 
Dressed  up  your  prettiest — thinking  you're  '  some  ?' 
Bright  patent  leathers,  with  nary  a  speck 
Spoiling  your  beauty  from  ankle  to  neck  ; 
Then  hear  the  bells  ringing — consult  them — 'tis  eight ! 
Stop  and  consider — the  engine  is  late ! 
Wait  till  she  comes  along — swear  you  won't  go ; 
Something  is  chasing  her — won't  do,  you  know  ! 
Run  on  the  sidewalk  to  keep  her  in  sight ; 
Hind  one  is  gaining — fine  chance  for  a  fight ! 

"  Things  looking  different :  knee-deep  in  mire ; 
Hind  one  is  creeping  up :  where  is  the  fire  ? 
Roots,  pants,  and  Sunday  coat  all  of  a  hue — 
Girl  that  you  went  to  meet  thinks  it  ain't  you — 
Mud  in  your  whiskers — mud  in  your  hair — 
Mud  in  your  nose  and  eyes — what  do  you  care  ? 
Stop  when  the  engine  does — look  at  your  figure ; 
Wondering,  ask, '  Is  it  me,  or  some  nigger  ?' 

"  Feel  half-ashamed,  but  go  home  on  the  rope, 
Thinking  of  bathing-tubs,  towels,  and  soap ; 
Thinking  of  clothing  spoiled — how  Mary  Jane, 
Once  disappointed,  will  '  shake '  you  again ; 
Seek  consolation,  and  find  one  at  last : 
Everything's  spoiled,  but — you  didn't  get  jxtssed." 


The  People's  Friend.  99 


IV. 

THE   COOPER   INSTITUTE. 

It  was  while  Mr.  Cooper  was  a  member  of  the  Board  of  Al- 
dermen that  he  first  conceived  the  idea  of  establishing  in  New 
York  a  great  institution  for  free  education  in  the  arts  and  sci- 
ences. A  Mr.  Rogers,  a  colleague  of  his  on  the  Board,  who  had 
just  returned  from  what  was  then  regarded  as  the  somewhat 
remarkable  undertaking  of  a  trip  to  Europe,  one  day  related  to 
him  his  experiences  in  Paris,  and,  among  other  things,  told 
him  of  a  visit  he  had  made  to  the  Polytechnique  Institute, 
where,  as  he  assured  him,  hundreds  of  young  men  attended 
the  free  lectures,  subsisting  meanwhile  on  a  crust  of  bread. 
Mr.  Cooper,  who  had  himself  often  felt  the  need  of  an  educa- 
tion, then  determined  that  he  would  devote  the  savings  of  his 
life,  if  necessary,  to  the  establishment  of  a  similar  institution  in 
New  York,  and  to  the  perfection,  if  possible,  of  some  arrange- 
ment by  which  students  who  attended  the  free  lectures  might 
be  enabled  to  subsist  on  something  more  substantial  than  a 
crust  of  bread. 

For  nearly  thirty  years  he  held  this  object  steadily  in  view 
until  1859,  when  he  presented  the  Cooper  Institute  to  the 
people  of  New  York.  It  was  at  first  estimated  that  the  entire 
cost  of  the  ground  and  building,  together  with  the  money 
necessary  for  the  establishment  of  scientific  and  art  schools, 
would  not  amount  to  more  than  $350,000.  When  completed, 
however,  it  was  found  that  the  Institute  had  cost  upward  of 
$600,000,  and,  taking  into  consideration  every  outlay,  Mr. 
Cooper  expended  upon  it  a  total  of  not  less  than  $900,000. 
Some  years  ago,  at  the  annual  meeting  of  the  Trustees  of  the 
institution,  Mr.  Cooper  spoke  as  follows  regarding  the  motives 
which  prompted  him  to  establish  it : 


ioo  Twelve  Americans. 

"Feeling,  as  I  always  have, my  own  want  of  education,  and  more  espe- 
cially my  want  of  scientific  knowledge,  as  applicable  to  the  various  call- 
ings in  w-hich  I  had  been  engaged,  it  was  this  want  of  my  own  which  I 
felt  so  keenly  that  led  me,  in  deep  sympathy  for  those  whom  I  knew 
would  be  subject  to  the  same  wants  and  inconvenience  that  I  had  encoun- 
tered— it  was  this  feeling  which  led  me  to  provide  an  institution  where 
a  course  of  instruction  would  be  open  and  free  to  all  who  felt  a  want  of 
scientific  knowledge,  as  applicable  to  any  of  the  useful  purposes  of  life. 
Having  started  in  life  with  naked  hands  and  an  honest  purpose,  I  perse- 
vered through  long  years  of  trial  and  effort  to  obtain  the  means  to  erect 
this  building,  which  is  now  entirely  devoted,  with  all  its  rents  and  revenue, 
of  every  name  and  nature,  to  the  advancement  of  science  and  art.  Be- 
lieving, as  I  do,  that  science  is  a  rule  or  law  of  God  by  which  the  move- 
ments of  the  material  creation  are  rendered  intelligible  to  man ;  that 
science  itself  is  nothing  more  nor  less  than  a  knowledge  of  this  law  or 
rule  actually  demonstrated  by  the  experience  of  mankind  ;  believing  this,  I 
have  given  the  labors  of  a  long  life  to  the  advancement  and  diffusion  of 
scientific  knowledge,  feeling  assured  that  when  Christianity  itself  is  felt  in 
all  its  purity,  power,  and  force,  when  it  is  relieved  of  all  its  creeds  and 
systems  of  human  device,  it  will  then  be  found  to  be  a  simple  system — a 
science  or  rule  of  life,  to  guide  and  regulate  the  actions  of  mankind." 

How  well  Mr.  Cooper's  great  monument,  the  Cooper  Insti-  - 
tute,  has  fulfilled  its  mission  is  seen  in  the  annual  report  of 
the  Trustees  for  1S82.     From  that  document — prepared,  under 
Mr.  Cooper's  direction,  by  his  faithful  friend  and  secretary,  Dr. 
Zachos — the  following  interesting  information  is  taken : 

"The  twenty-third  annual  commencement  marks  a  progress  of  this  in- 
stitution in  efficiency  and  public  favor  that  may  well  give  satisfaction  to 
its  founder,  and  to  the  Trustees  who  have  aided  him,  both  in  the  incep- 
tion and  in  every  detail  of  its  elaborate  work. 

"  Its  faithful  administration  and  careful  instruction,  in  every  depart- 
ment, have  procured  its  great  usefulness,  and  added  an  increasing  value 
to  its  educational  course  for  the  rising  wants  of  the  American  people. 

"  Within  a  few  years,  and  largely  due  to  the  influence  of  the  Cooper 
Union,  technical  schools  and  systematic  instruction  in  skilled  forms  of 
labor  have  been  established  in  several  of  our  large  cities. 

"  The  diffusion  of  wealth  and  intelligence  among  those  called  the 
'operative  classes,'  as  distinguished  from  the  'professional,'  renders  their 
demand  upon  the  public  wealth  for  educational  facilities  more  and  more 
imperative;  and  nothing  can  satisfy  this  demand  short  of  engrafting 
upon  the  'Common  School  System'  the  methods  of  the  'Industrial  and 
Technical  School.' 


The  People' 8  Friend.  101 

"  The  Cooper  Union,  as  well  as  institutions  of  a  similar  kind  now  scat- 
tered over  the  civilized  world,  is  leading  the  way,  and  inaugurating  the 
methods,  for  a  great  system  of  instruction  specially  adapted  to  the  wants 
of  the  industrial  and  skilled  operative  classes  that  form  much  the  largest 
part  of  the  population  of  those  countries. 

"  The  industrial  class  not  only  form  the  '  bone  and  sinew '  of  every 
country,  but  in  republican  and  democratic  institutions  like  ours  it  is  on 
the  intelligence  and  industry  of  this  class  we  must  rely  chiefly  for  the 
perpetuity  and  progress  of  such  institutions ;  so  that  the  influence  and 
usefulness  of  such  a  school  as  the  Cooper  Union  consist,  not  only  in  what 
it  does,  but  much  more,  perhaps,  in  what  it  suggests. 

"  But  it  will  be  seen  that  the  actual  work  of  the  Cooper  Union  is  one  of 
the  largest  of  any  educational  institution  in  this  or  any  other  country. 

"  The  number  of  pupils  who  have  entered  the  various  classes  during 
the  past  year  has  been  3334.  Of  these  936  entered  the  evening  scien- 
tific classes,  1227  the  evening  art  classes;  711  pupils  have  been  admit- 
ted to  the  Woman's  Art  Schools,  and  about  the  same  number  declined  for 
want  of  room.  Two  hundred  have  been  admitted  to  the  Young  Men's 
Literary  Class,  two  hundred  to  the  class  in  Elocution,  and  sixty  to  the 
class  in  Telegraphy. 

"  Of  this  whole  number  of  pupils,  2465  remained  throughout  the  year 
in  regular  attendance  upon  their  classes,  and  a  large  majority  of  these 
obtained  '  certificates  of  proficiency '  and  other  testimonials  of  excellent 
attainment  in  their  several  studies. 

"  These  pupils  are  drawn  from  every  part  of  the  country,  from  Maine 
to  California  and  Georgia;  but  most  of  them  come  from  New  York  City 
and  vicinity,  within  which  limits  are  over  two  millions  of  inhabitants,  and 
within  an  hour's  reach  of  the  Cooper  Union. 

"  These  pupils  are  admitted  on  the  simple  rule  of  '  first  come  first 
served,'  with  such  qualifications  as  are  required  by  a  good  character,  a 
suitable  age,  and  an  expressed  purpose  to  turn  the  advantages  of  the  in- 
stitution to  industrial  purposes  and  self-support  —  otherwise  the  classes 
would  soon  be  filled  with  '  amateurs '  in  art  and  in  the  studies  of  science. 

"The  pupils  who  leave  the  schools  with  some  proof  of  proficiency  de- 
monstrate the  help  which  such  instruction  is  to  them  by  the  readiness 
with  which  they  get  employment.  There  is  often  a  call  in  advance  upon 
the  principals  of  the  scientific  and  art  departments  for  men  or  women 
thought  competent  to  teach  or  to  conduct  the  different  employments 
which  they  are  taught  here. 

"  Besides  this  specific  instruction  in  practical  science  and  art,  the 
Cooper  Union  diffuses  a  great  deal  of  general  knowledge  and  intelligence 
through  its  courses  of  lectures  and  its  Free  Library  and  Reading-room. 

"An  average  of  1500  readers  resort  daily  to  the  Free  Reading-room. 
The  visitors  read  over  three  hundred  papers  and  periodicals,  foreign  and 
domestic,  and  draw  from  the  library  an  average  of  five  hundred  books  daily. 


102  Twelve  Americans. 

"  The  policy  of  the  Reading-room  is  not  to  keep  an  expensive  or  very 
large  collection  of  books,  but  to  give  the  popular  information  of  the  best 
current  papers  and  periodicals  and  books  of  the  established  literature  of 
our  language,  and  keep  up  with  such  books  in  popular  science  and  knowl- 
edge as  have  a  place  outside  of  professional  and  technical  learning. 

"The  large  Lecture  Hall  of  the  Cooper  Union  will  accommodate  from 
1800  to  2000  people;  this  is  generally  well  filled  by  audiences  that  listen 
to  the  popular  courses  of  lectures  given  during  the  fall  and  winter. 

"  Men  accomplished  in  their  departments  are  selected,  who  aim  to  give 
their  lectures  in  an  entertaining  as  well  as  instructive  manner,  with  illus- 
trations and  views  by  means  of  the  stereopticon.  All  the  classes  and 
privileges  of  the  institution  are  entirely  free,  with  the  exception  of  the 
amateur  class  in  the  "Woman's  Art  Department. 

"  The  expenses  of  keeping  up  all  the  departments  during  the  past  year 
were  $50,973.  The  income  is  chiefly  derived  from  the  rents  of  such  parts 
of  the  building  as  are  not  devoted  to  the  uses  of  the  Free  Reading-room 
and  free  classes,  and  from  an  endowment  by  Mr.  Peter  Cooper  of  about 
$180,000.  The  building  cost  $630,000,  and  the  total  expenditures  of  the 
Trustees  on  the  building  and  education  from  1859  to  1882,  inclusive,  have 
been  $1,549,192. 

"  When  we  reckon  the  thousands  of  pupils  that  have  passed  through  its 
classes,  and  the  hundreds  of  thousands  that  have  been  benefited  by  the 
other  advantages  of  instruction  in  the  Cooper  Union,  this  large  sum,  spent 
in  twenty-three  years,  will  appear  a  very  economical  means  to  very  large 
and  useful  ends." 


Y 

LAYIXG  THE  FIRST  OCEAX  CABLE. 

In  the  rapid  whirl  and  never-ending  excitement  of  American 
life  it  is  perhaps  not  to  he  wondered  at  that  the  origin  of 
great  enterprises,  even  of  enterprises  which  have  tended  to 
revolutionize  systems  of  human  intercourse,  should  he  soon 
forgotten.  The  people  of  New  York  have  become  so  familiar 
with  the  use  of  telegraph  lines  which  traverse  great  oceans  that 
they  are  apt  to  forget  how  short  a  time  has  elapsed  since  a  sub- 
marine cable  for  the  transmission  of  telegraphic  messages  was 
first  established — to  forget  that  some  of  the  men  who  origi- 
nated that  marvellous  enterprise  are  still  alive  and  dwelling  in 
their  midst. 


The  People's  Friend.  103 

In  the  year  1854,  on  the  10th  of  March,  in  a  house  in  Gram- 
ercy  Park,  New  York,  a  company  of  five  gentlemen  signed 
an  agreement  to  organize  the  New  York,  Newfoundland,  and 
London  Telegraph  Company,  the  object  of  which  was  stated  to 
be  "  the  establishment  of  a  line  of  telegraphic  communication 
between  America  and  Europe  by  way  of  Newfoundland."  Of 
that  company  so  established  Peter  Cooper  was  the  President 
and  leading  spirit,  and  to  him,  quite  as  much  as  to  any  other 
one  man,  is  due  the  successful  completion  of  the  x\tlantic  cable. 
The  first  submarine  telegraph  wire  of  any  considerable  length 
was  partly  laid  under  Mr.  Cooper's  personal  supervision.  This 
was  nearly  thirty  years  ago,  when  he  was  President  of  the 
North  American  Telegraph  Company,  and  of  the  New  York, 
Newfoundland,  and  London  Telegraph  Company.  Acting  in 
the  latter  capacity,  together  with  a  number  of  other  gentlemen, 
he  went  to  Cape  Ray,  which  was  to  be  the  starting-point  of  a 
cable  across  the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence  and  the  commencement 
of  telegraphic  communication  with  England.  Arriving  at  Port 
Basque,  he  and  a  large  party  of  friends  went  on  board  the  vessel 
chartered  to  carry  the  cable,  and,  with  flags  flying,  and  the  crew 
echoing  back  the  cheers  of  those  on  shore,  his  ship  weighed 
anchor,  and  was  ready  to  be  taken  in  tow  by  the  steamer  which 
had  been  chartered  to  do  that  work.  At  the  outset,  however, 
there  was  an  accident,  caused  by  the  stupidity  of  the  com- 
mander of  the  towing  steamer.  In  the  effort  to  make  fast  to 
the  cable-ship  the  steamer  came  into  collision  with  her,  tore 
away  her  quarter-rail  and  shrouds,  and  at  last,  carried  the  vessel 
out  of  the  harbor  with  such  force  that  the  cable  broke,  and 
had  to  be  cut  and  re-spliced,  causing  a  delay  of  several  hours. 

When  everything  was  again  in  readiness  the  captain  of  the 
towing  steamer  was  once  more  signaled  to  come  along-side  and 
take  the  cable-ship  in  tow.  In  trying  to  do  so  that  officer — 
who  is  understood  to  have  privately  expressed  the  opinion  that 
the  telegraph  men  were  a  set  of  lunatics — managed  to  get  the 


104  Twelve  Americans. 

towing-line  tang-led  in  the  wheel  of  the  steamer,  and  at  last 
was  obliged  to  cut  it.  He  did  this  so  awkwardly  that  the  line 
swung  rouud  the  anchor  of  the  cable-ship,  and  the  anchor 
was  lost. 

The  position  of  the  excursion  party  on  board  was  now  most 
perilous.  Their  vessel  was  without  an  anchor.  A  storm 
sprang  up.  The  ship  began  to  drift  rapidly  toward  a  reef  of 
rocks,  upon  which  it  seemed  for  a  time  as  if  she  must  be  dash- 
ed to  pieces.  At  last,  however,  the  steamer  came  up  with  her, 
the  line  was  made  fast,  and  after  the  cable  had  been  properly 
connected  the  trip  across  the  Gulf  was  commenced.  But  it 
was  not  successful.  Owing,  again,  to  the  stupidity  of  the 
captain  of  the  steamer,  the  wire  had  to  be  cut,  and  eventually 
was  dropped  into  the  sea,  causing  a  loss  to  the  company  of 
more  than  8300,000. 

Subsequently  the  company  sent  a  steamer  to  take  up  a  part 
of  the  wire,  and  it  was  found  that,  though  the  blundering 
captain  had  proceeded  only  nine  miles  from  the  shore,  he  had 
taken  so  roundabout  and  straggling  a  course  that  twenty-four 
miles  of  cable  had  been  paid  out.  In  later  years  the  same 
captain  was  one  of  the  party  which  fired  the  first  gun  upon 
Fort  Sumter. 

Less  than  two  years  after  this  failure  Mr.  Cooper's  company 
had  another  cable  ready.  It  was  successfully  laid,  and  the  first 
link  in  the  chain  of  telegraphic  communication  with  Europe 
completed.  Following  up  this  beginning,  the  gentlemen  who 
had  determined  to  lay  a  cable  across  the  Atlantic  sent  Mr. 
Cyrus  W.  Field  to  England  to  obtain  subscriptions.  He  suc- 
ceeded. The  wire  which  was  to  establish  lightning  commu- 
nication between  the  two  continents  Avas  contracted  for  and 
placed  on  two  vessels,  which  were  to  meet  in  mid-ocean.  The 
scheme  was  everywhere  laughed  at ;  Mr.  Cooper  and  his  com- 
panions were  regarded  as  being  little  short  of  madmen.  But 
still  they  went  on  with  their  work,  the  cable  was  completed, 


The  People's  Friend.  105 

the  ships  met  in  mid-ocean  as  arranged,  the  ends  of  the  wire 
were  united,  and  then  the  world  was  startled  by  the  announce- 
ment that  the  Queen  of  England  had  sent  the  following  tele- 
graphic message  to  the  President  of  the  United  States : 

"  To  the  President  of  the  United  States,  Washington: 

"  The  Queen  desires  to  congratulate  the  President  upon  the  successful 
completion  of  the  great  international  work  in  which  the  Queen  has  taken 
the  greatest  interest. 

"  The  Queen  is  convinced  that  the  President  will  unite  with  her  in  fer- 
vently hoping  that  the  electric  cable  which  now  connects  Great  Britain 
with  the  United  States  will  prove  an  additional  link  between  the  nations, 
whose  friendship  is  founded  in  their  common  interest  and  reciprocal 
esteem. 

"  The  Queen  has  much  pleasure  in  thus  communicating  with  the  Presi- 
dent, and  renewing  her  wishes  for  the  prosperity  of  the  United  States." 

The  President's  reply  was  as  follows : 

"  Washington  City,  August  16, 1S5S. 
"  To  Her  Majesty  Victoria  the  Queen  of  Great  Britain: 

"  The  President  cordially  reciprocates  the  congratulations  of  her  Maj- 
esty the  Queen  on  the  success  of  the  great  international  enterprise  accom- 
plished by  the  science,  skill,  and  indomitable  energy  of  the  two  countries. 
It  is  a  triumph  more  glorious,  because  far  more  useful  to  mankind,  than 
was  ever  won  by  concpieror  on  the  field  of  battle. 

"  May  the  Atlantic  telegraph,  under  the  blessing  of  Heaven,  prove  to  be 
a  bond  of  perpetual  peace  between  the  kindred  nations,  and  an  instrument 
destined  by  Divine  Providence  to  diffuse  religion,  civilization,  liberty,  and 
love  throughout  the  world. 

"  In  this  view  will  not  all  nations  of  Christendom  spontaneously  unite 
in  the  declaration  that  it  shall  be  forever  neutral,  and  that  its  communi- 
cations shall  be  held  sacred  in  passing  to  their  place  of  destination,  even 
in  the  midst  of  hostilities  ?  James  Buchanan." 

On  receipt  of  the  Queen's  despatch  New  York  was  literally 
wild  with  excitement.  All  the  church-bells  and  fire-bells  were 
rung ;  flags  were  hung  from  every  second  window.  One  hun- 
dred guns  were  fired  in  the  City  Hall  Park  at  daybreak,  and 
one  hundred  more  at  noon.  Bands  played,  military  and  other 
organizations  paraded.     The  streets  were  filled  with  people. 

5* 


106  Twelve  Americans. 

Transatlantic  telegraphic  communication  was  no  longer  a 
problem,  but  an  established  fact,  and  there  was  much  rejoicing 
among  Mr.  Cooper  and  his  associates  in  the  great  enterprise. 
Unfortunately,  their  triumph  was  destined  to  be  short-lived. 
Between  four  and  five  hundred  messages  were  received  over 
the  wire,  and  then  it  began  to  fail.  The  clicking  of  the  in- 
strument grew  fainter  and  fainter.  At  last  it  stopped.  The 
wire  had  broken  down ! 

Then,  of  course,  the  multitude  shouted,  "  I  told  you  so !" 
and  even  in  the  New  York  Chamber  of  Commerce,  at  a  meet- 
ing held  to  consider  the  matter,  a  prominent  member  excitedly 
exclaimed,  "  Oh,  what's  the  use  of  talking  about  it  ?  No  mes- 
sage was  ever  received  from  across  the  water.  The  whole  thing 
is  a  humbug !" 

Fortunately,  it  happened  that  a  number  of  English  capital- 
ists had  more  faith  in  the  scheme  of  Mr.  Cooper  and  his  asso- 
ciates than  had  some  of  their  own  countrymen.  A  number  of 
the  messages  transmitted  over  the  wire  had  been  of  great  ser- 
vice to  the  English  Government  (then  engaged  in  a  war  with 
China)  ;  and  with  the  aid  of  money  subscribed  in  London  the 
company  succeeded  in  getting  another  cable.  It  was  laid  half- 
way across  the  ocean,  and  then  lost.  The  cable  company  was 
now  threatened  with  financial  ruin.  In  their  distress  Mr. 
Cooper  and  his  friends  again  sent  Mr.  Field  to  England  to 
raise  more  money.  At  first  people  laughed  at  him,  saying 
they  had  had  their  fill  of  throwing  gold  to  the  bottom  of 
the  sea.  Mr.  Field  was  in  despair,  but  he  persevered.  A  rich 
Quaker  became  greatly  impressed  with  the  enterprise.  He 
subscribed  a  fortune  to  give  it  another  lease  of  life.  His  ex- 
ample was  followed  by  others,  and  at  last  the  third  cable  was 
laid  successfully,  and  worked  to  perfection.  Then  the  lost  half 
of  the  second  wire  was  grappled  for,  and,  to  the  astonishment 
of  the  world,  at  last  fished  out  of  the  depths  of  the  ocean.  It 
was  spliced  to  the  other  half,  and  two  telegraphic  cables  con- 


The  People's  Friend.  107 

nected  Europe  and  America.  Subsequently  it  was  discovered 
that,  because  of  the  neglect  of  the  workmen  who  had  been  em- 
ployed to  lay  the  first  wire,  the  gutta-percha,  covering  by  which 
it  should  have  been  protected  had  been  left  exposed  to  the  hot 
sun,  and  had  in  places  melted  off.  In  this  way  the  electric 
current  was  allowed  to  come  in  contact  with  the  water,  its 
force  was  lost,  and  the  cable  failed.  During  all  this  trying 
time  in  the  history  of  the  cable  company  Mr.  Cooper's  faith  in 
its  ultimate  success  never  wavered.  At  one  time  the  Bank  of 
Newfoundland,  with  which  they  had  to  do  business,  refused  to 
honor  the  paper  of  the  association,  and  drew  on  Mr.  Cooper 
personally.  In  this  way  he  was  several  times  out  of  pocket  to 
the  tune  of  $20,000 ;  but  he  never  complained,  and  in  the  end, 
of  course,  had  his  reward.  In  after-life  he  found  much  pleas- 
ure in  relating  to  his  friends  the  early  trials  of  the  company 
and  its  final  triumph.  In  regard  to  the  first  failure  of  the 
cable,  it  is  of  interest  to  quote  his  own  simple  and  graphic 
statement,  as  follows : 

"  One-half  of  the  people  did  not  believe  that  we  had  ever 
had  any  messages  across  the  cable.  It  was  all  a  humbug,  they 
thought.  In  the  Chamber  of  Commerce  the  question  came  up 
about  a  telegraph  line,  and  a  man  got  up  and  said,  '  It  is  all  a 
humbug !  No  message  ever  came  over  !'  At  that  Mr.  Cunard 
arose  and  said  that  '  the  gentleman  did  not  know  what  he  was 
talking  about,  and  had  no  right  to  say  what  he  had,  and  that 
he  himself  had  sent  messages  and  got  the  answers.' 

"  Mr.  Cunard  was  a  positive  witness ;  he  had  been  on  the 
spot;  and  the  man  must  have  felt  'slim'  at  the  result  of  his 
attempt  to  cast  ridicule  on  men  whose  efforts,  if  unsuccessful, 
were  at  least  not  unworthy  of  praise. 

"  We  succeeded  in  getting  another  cable,  but  when  we  had 
got  it  about  half-way  over  we  lost  that  as  well.  Then  the 
question  seemed  hopeless.  We  thought  for  a  long  time  that 
our  money  was  all  lost.     The  matter  rested  some  two  years 


io8  Twelve  Americans. 

before  anything  more  was  clone.  My  friend,  Mr.  Wilson  G. 
Hunt,  used  to  talk  to  me  often  about  it,  for  we  bad  brought 
him  into  the  Board  some  two  or  three  years  before.  He  said 
he  did  not  feel  much  interest  in  it,  but  he  felt  concerned  about 
spending  so  much  money  ;  and  he  remarked  that  he  was  not 
sure,  as  we  had  spent  so  much  money  already  about  the  tele- 
graph line,  but  that  we  had  better  spend  a  little  more.  So  we 
sent  Mr.  Field  out  again.  We  had  spent  so  much  money  al- 
ready that  it  was  'like  pulling  teeth'  out  of  Roberts  and  Tay- 
lor to  get  more  money  from  them  ;  but  we  got  up  the  sum 
necessary  to  send  Mr.  Field  out. 

"  When  he  arrived  there,  Mr.  Field  said,  they  laughed  at 
him  for  thinking  of  getting  up  another  cable.  They  said  they 
thought  that  the  thing  was  dead  enough,  and  buried  deep 
enough  in  the  ocean,  to  satisfy  anybody.  But  Mr.  Field  was 
not  satisfied.  Finally  he  got  hold  of  an  old  Quaker  friend, 
who  was  a  very  rich  man,  and  he  so  completely  electrified  him 
with  the  idea  of  the  work  that  he  put  three  or  four  hundred 
thousand  dollars  into  it  immediately  to  lay  another  cable ;  and 
in  fourteen  days  after  Mi".  Field  had  got  that  man's  name  he 
had  the  whole  amount  of  subscriptions  made  up — six  millions 
of  dollars. 

"  The  cable  was  made  and  put  down,  and  it  worked  success- 
fully. We  then  went  out  to  see  if  we  could  not  pick  up  the 
other  one.  The  balance  of  the  lost  cable  was  on  board  the 
ship.  The  cable  was  found,  picked  up,  and  joined  to  the  rest 
— and  this  wonder  of  the  world  was  accomplished.  I  do  not 
think  that  feat  is  surpassed  by  any  other  human  achievement. 
The  cable  was  taken  out  of  water  two  and  a  half  miles  deep, 
in  mid-ocean.  It  was  pulled  up  three  times  before  it  was 
secured.  They  got  it  up  just  far  enough  to  sec  it,  but  it 
would  go  down  again,  and  they  would  have  to  do  the  work 
over  again.  They  used  up  all  their  coal  and  spent  ten  or 
twelve   days  in  'hooking'  for  the  cable  before  it  was  finally 


The  People's  Friend.  109 

caught.  But  they  succeeded ;  the  two  ends  of  the  cable  were 
brought  in  connection,  and  then  we  had  two  complete  wires 
across  the  ocean." 

VI. 
HONORED   IN  HIS   AGE. 

After  the  successful  laying  of  the  Atlantic  cable  Mr.  Cooper 
took  but  slight  part  in  public  enterprises  until  the  breaking  out 
of  the  war,  when  he  did  everything  in  his  power  to  aid  the 
Union  cause.  To  this  end  he  paid  for  the  services  of  nine 
substitutes,  and  threw  open  the  Great  Hall  of  the  Cooper  In- 
stitute to  be  used  for  public  meetings. 

From  the  close  of  the  rebellion  until  the  Presidential  cam- 
paign of  1876  he  did  not  appear  prominently  in  public  life. 
In  the  early  summer  of  that  year,  however,  he  was  strongly 
urged  to  be  a  candidate  for  the  Presidency,  on  a  platform 
which  declared  in  favor  of  paper  money,  to  be  issued  exclu- 
sively by  the  United  States  Government,  and  the  overthrow 
of  the  national  banks.  He  persistently  refused  to  take  the 
nomination,  and  even  when  informed  that  he  had  been  named 
as  the  candidate  of  the  Indianapolis  Convention  telegraphed 
in  reply  : 

"  My  age  admonishes  me  that  I  must  positively  say  no. 

"  Feter  Cooper." 

Still,  his  friends  urged  him  to  go  into  the  contest,  and  at 
last  he  consented.  He  did  so,  not  with  any  expectation  of 
being  elected,  but  for  the  purpose  of  advocating  the  principle 
long  maintained  by  him,  that  the  National  Government  alone 
should  be  allowed  to  issue  the  money  of  the  nation.  During 
his  business  career  Mr.  Cooper  had  witnessed  no  less  than  ten 
financial  panics  brought  on  by  the  failure  of  banks,  and,  to  use 
his  own  expression,  if  he  had  not  "looked  sharp"  he  would 
himself  have  suffered  serious  loss  by  such  failures.  He  con- 
tended that  the  Government  could  not  fail,  and  consequently 


1 10  Twelve  Americans. 

should  absolutely  control  the  nation's  finance.  Farther,  he 
was  in  favor  of  abolishing  the  national  banks,  because  he  be- 
lieved that  "  through  them  was  being  built  up  a  selfish  money 
power  which  threatened  the  existence  of  the  Republic."  Still 
farther,  he  hoped  by  his  candidacy  to  have  a  better  oppor- 
tunity of  advocating  a  system  of  civil  service  reform,  under 
which  Federal  officers  in  the  different  States  should  be  ap- 
pointed, by  the  advice  of  a  responsible  local  commission ; 
should  be  retained  during  good  behavior,  and  pensioned  after 
they  had  faithfully  performed  their  duty  for  a  certain  term 
of  years.  To  advocate  these  theories  he  accepted  the  Indian- 
apolis nomination.  After  doing  so  he  addressed  to  the  Republi- 
can and  Democratic  candidates,  R.  B.  Hayes  and  S.  J.  Tilden, 
an  open  letter,  from  which  the  following  characteristic  passage 
is  taken  : 

"  If  the  Government,  after  the  war  of  rebellion,  had  been  as  anxious  to 
heal  the  wounds  which  that  unhappy  war  created,  to  alleviate  the  poverty 
which  it  brought  on  a  large  section  of  our  country,  to  reinstate  the  broken 
industries  and  enterprises  of  our  whole  people,  as  it  had  been  to  carry 
that  war  vigorously,  at  any  cost,  on  to  victory,  the  Government  would 
have  seen  that  peace  had  its  demands  as  well  as  war.  If  a  Government 
is  bound  to  protect  the  people  from  the  aggressions  of  war,  it  is  also 
bound  to  save  it  from  commercial  distress,  and  the  sorrows  of  a  laboring 
population  without  work.  The  Government  might  now  free  hundreds  of 
thousands  from  imminent  want,  and  set  the  wheels  of  trade  again  in  mo- 
tion, by  building  the  two  great  railroads  across  the  continent  at  the  South- 
west and  North-west  of  the  country  that  private  enterprise  has  already 
commenced,  but  cannot  complete,  for  want  of  capital.  The  legal  tender 
of  a  solvent  country  like  this  cannot  be  called  a  debt  in  any  proper  sense 
of  the  word.  It  is  money,  and  measures  the  exchangeable  value  of  all 
property,  gold  included.  All  must  see  that  the  currency  paid  out  by  the 
Government  for  value  received  became  the  people's  money,  over  which 
the  Government  lost  all  control,  except  to  tax  it,  as  all  other  property,  to 
meet  the  wants  of  Government.  This  amount  of  money,  even  now,  may 
be  given  back  to  the  people  in  works  of  great  national  importance,  like 
that  of  a  Northern  and  a  Southern  Pacific  Railroad,  that  would,  to-day,  be 
worth  their  cost  in  aiding  to  put  down  the  Indian  wars  that  now  threaten 
the  frontier  of  our  country.  What  is  a  Government  good  for  if,  in  such  a 
country  as  this,  with  all  its  material  resources  and  vast  extent,  it  cannot 


The  People 's  Friend.  1 1 1 

prevent  a  large  part  of  its  people  from  the  distress  of  want  of  work  and 
of  bread  ?     This  seems  to  me  the  first  duty  of  Government. 

"  Sorry  am  I  to  see — and  I  say  it  without  any  reproach  cast  upon  the  in- 
tegrity of  those  concerned — that  in  neither  of  the  platforms  of  the  political 
parties  that  represent  the  governing  intelligence  and  wealth  of  this  coun- 
try is  this  great  question  of  finance  either  discussed  or  recognized  in  its 
principles  or  bearings  upon  the  happiness  and  prosperity  of  this  people — 
except  in  a  way  that  seems  to  me  adverse  to  both. 

"  I  have,  therefore,  consented,  with  great  reluctance,  to  go  before  the 
people — not  for  the  strife  of  office,  not  for  the  petty  triumphs  of  a  suc- 
cessful candidate,  but  for  the  vindication  of  a  great  principle  that  under- 
lies all  true  Republican  or  Democratic  institutions — namely,  that  the  in- 
terest and  happiness  of  the  whole  people  are  superior  to  the  demands  or 
interests  of  any  one  class ;  that  in  the  neglect  or  defiance  of  this  principle 
the  great  debt  of  this  people,  incurred  by  a  war  to  save  the  life  of  this 
nation,  has  been  administered  too  much  by  the  advice  and  in  the  interest 
of  a  small  class  that  care  for  their  income,  but  cannot  look  out  for,  or  at- 
tend to,  active  investments ;  hence,  they  prefer  the  bond  to  the  currency ; 
and  for  another  class  who  desire  the  highest  interest  for  the  smallest  in- 
vestment ;  hence,  they  prefer  gold  to  a  paper  legal  tender ;  and  for  still 
another  class,  who,  alien  to  our  institutions  and  country,  care  only  to  tax 
its  energies  and  wealth  for  the  highest  interest  they  can  draw  for  an  im- 
mediate investment  of  their  money.  But  these  are  not  the  interests  of 
the  people  of  this  country.  Neither  honor  nor  justice  requires  such  ad- 
ministration of  the  public  debt  of  this  country. 

"  I  feel,  therefore,  constrained  by  every  principle  of  honor  and  love  for 
my  country  to  come  forward,  at  an  advanced  age,  and  with  a  mind  that 
would  gladly  seek  repose,  after  the  toils  of  a  long  and  laborious  life,  to 
answer  the  call  of  a  portion  of  my  countrymen,  to  try  these  issues  before 
the  people  of  the  whole  country;  to  test  these  truths,  which  we  hold  to  be 
self-evident,  as  soon  as  they  are  honestly  examined,  as  are  the  truths  of 
the  Declaration  of  Independence.  One  of  the  chief  of  these  truths  is,  that 
as  all  rightful  Governments  are  made  for  the  people  and  by  the  people, 
they  must  be  administered  with  a  parental  care  in  the  interests  of  the 
whole  people,  and  not  for  a  class.  No  single  interest  touches  the  domes- 
tic comfort  and  prosperity  of  the  people  as  this  one  of  the  currency  ;  and 
in  the  present  condition  of  the  country  none  is  of  so  much  immediate  im- 
portance or  calls  for  more  immediate  solution.  To  put  off  this  question, 
therefore,  with  vague  expressions  of  reform,  and  the  desirableness  of 
'specie  payments,'  is  to  ignore  the  ruling  interest  of  the  hour.  It  is  to 
surrender  the  people  to  their  sufferings  without  any  promise  of  remedy. 
I  appeal,  therefore,  from  those  who  seem  insensible  to  the  cry  of  the 
people  to  the  people  themselves.  I  appeal  from  the  political  parties,  organ- 
ized to  control  the  Government  and  distribute  the  offices  and  emoluments 
of  office,  to  the  great  industrial  classes  who  are  organized  to  protect  their 


ii2  Twelve  Americans. 

interests  and  obtain  some  recognition  of  their  rights  from  the  Govern- 
ment of  the  country.  Let  them  substitute  co-operation  for  '  strikes,'  and 
unite  to  save  themselves  and  the  country  from  the  present  disaster  and 
distress  to  all  the  industrial  classes.  Let  no  man  think  of  the  bullet 
■while  he  has  the  ballot  in  his  hand.  It  needs  but  the  use  of  that  simple 
instrument  of  political  power  to  rectify  all  our  discontents  and  social 
evils. 

"  Let  us  have  our  national  currency  duly  honored ;  let  us  take  the  testi- 
mony of  the  nation's  experience,  and  that  of  other  countries,  as  to  what 
such  currency  can  do  for  our  prosperity ;  let  the  gold  par  be  reached  by 
rendering  our  currency  of  higher  and  indispensable  uses,  as  now  exempli- 
fied in  France,  and  not  by  contracting  its  amount ;  and  let  its  volume  and 
its  value  be  determined  by  the  interconvertible  bond,  placed  at  the  dis- 
posal of  the  wants  of  the  people,  and  governed  by  all  the  forms  and  sanc- 
tities of  law ;  and  not  surrender  the  currency  to  the  ever-changing  basis 
of  a  commodity  like  gold  —  and  we  shall  have  peace  on  this  question. 
'  Justice  will  be  established  and  the  general  welfare  promoted,'  prosper- 
ity again  will  revisit  us,  and  we  shall  vindicate  the  wisdom  and  superiority 
of  our  free  institutions  before  the  world." 

It  is  not  necessary  in  tins  place  to  comment  upon  these 
views.  And  farther,  in  regard  to  Mr.  Cooper's  Presidential  can- 
didacy, it  need  only  be  repeated  that  he  never  expected  to  be 
elected  by  the  people.  lie  and  his  friends  thought,  however, 
that  he  might  possibly  carry  one  State,  and  that  if  the  contest 
was  thrown  into  the  House  of  Representatives,  his  party  hold- 
ing the  balance  of  power,  he  might  receive  votes  enough  to 
place  him  in  the  Executive  chair.  The  campaign  which  fol- 
lowed his  nomination  and  his  connection  with  the  paper-money 
movement — now  happily  dead  and  buried — cost  him  from  first 
to  last  more  than  $25,000.  This  estimate  is  according  to  his 
own  calculation. 

During  the  last  years  of  his  life  Mr.  Cooper  took  no  part 
in  politics  or  public  business.  Until  the  winter  of  1883  he 
was  still  active  in  his  private  affairs,  however ;  and  being  rea- 
sonably well  and  strong,  in  spite  of  his  ninety-two  years  of 
hard  work,  took  the  keenest  interest  in  everything  that  con- 
cerned the  city  with  the  growth  and  progress  of  which  he  had 
been  so  closely  identified.     He  entered  upon  his  ninety-third 


The  People's  Friend.  113 

year  in  the  possession  of  all  his  faculties,  and  on  his  last  birth- 
day accounted  for  his  remarkably  long  life  and  freedom  from 
pain  and  sickness  by  the  statement,  that  from  his  childhood 
he  had  always  been  temperate — "  temperate  even  in  temper- 
ance." 

It  was  not  ordained  that  he  should  live  to  see  his  ninety- 
third  birthday.  On  the  4th  of  April,  1883,  at  three  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  he  died  at  his  residence  in  New  York.  His 
final  illness  was  of  short  duration,  and  the  end  was  painless. 
Four  days  before  his  quiet  "taking  off"  he  visited  the  Cooper 
Institute,  and  contracted  a  cold  from  which  he  was  not  to  re- 
cover. His  death  was  the  cause  of  sorrow  in  every  part  of  the 
Union.  People  of  every  condition  mourned  for  him.  Thou- 
sands followed  him  to  the  grave.  Out  of  respect  to  his  mem- 
ory courts,  legislatures,  and  city  councils  were  adjourned.  On 
the  day  of  his  funeral  many  Exchanges  and  houses  of  business 
were  closed.  Resolutions  commemorative  of  his  good  deeds 
were  passed  by  numerous  public  bodies,  and  by  a  large  num- 
ber of  private  associations.  Ministers  of  every  creed  spoke  in 
praise  of  him. 

Peter  Cooper  died  full  of  years  and  full  of  honors.  He 
fully  deserved  every  honor  which  came  to  him.  He  had 
passed  the  boundary  of  four  score  years  and  ten,  but  had  not 
survived  his  usefulness  nor  had  he  endured  long  enough  to  say 
of  his  multiplied  years:  "Yet  is  their  strength  labor  and  sor- 
row." So  far  as  native  resolution,  rising  out  of  adverse  cir- 
cumstances, could  produce  a  wise,  benevolent,  and  sympathetic 
character,  tempered  by  native  shrewdness  and  warmed  by  a 
true  Christian  spirit,  he  was  a  model  man.  His  works  live 
after  him.  His  life  is  well  worthy  of  imitation.  In  his  youth 
he  knew  the  blighting  and  nipping  influence  of  poverty.  He 
was  denied  the  broadening  views  and  elevating  impulses  which 
come  only  from  the  better  forms  of  education.  So,  as  he  grew 
to  manhood  and  the  busy  world  around  him  became  thronged 


ii4  Twelve  Americans. 

with  the  inventions  which  have  made  the  present  age  memo- 
rable in  the  history  of  the  world,  he  was  impressed  with  the 
necessity  of  providing  for  the  sons  and  daughters  of  the  poor 
that  instruction  in  the  useful  arts  which  he  had  lacked.  He 
determined  that,  so  far  as  he  could  provide  means  and  appli- 
ances of  education,  no  young  person  should  be  hindered  in  his 
development  for  want  of  a  helping  hand.  As  fast  as  wealth 
flowed  in  upon  him  he  used  it  to  create  a  school  in  science 
and  art.  He  did  not  leave  his  hard-earned  riches  to  build  for 
himself  a  monument  or  to  form  the  nucleus  of  a  great  fortune 
for  a  purse-proud  family.  During  his  lifetime  he  built  a  me- 
morial whose  usefulness  will  bless  his  fellow-men  long  after 
the  men  and  women  of  this  generation  are  dust.  He  did  not 
leave  a  great  fortune.  He  was  his  own  executor.  The  riches 
which  he  gathered  by  patient  industry  were  used  to  build 
churches,  found  schools,  foster  institutions  for  the  improve- 
ment of  the  condition  of  men,  and,  more  especially,  to  afford 
instruction  to  the  poor.  The  singular  modesty  and  unselfish- 
ness of  the  man  forbade  any  advertisement  of  his  deeds.  But 
when  he  gave  to  the  people  that  magnificent  work,  the  Cooper 
Institute,  he  uttered  the  first  and  last  public  explanation  of  his 
purpose:  "Having  started  in  life  with  naked  hands  and  an 
honest  purpose,  I  persevered  through  long  years  of  trial  and 
effort  to  obtain  the  means  to  erect  this  building,  which  is  now 
devoted,  with  its  rents  and  revenues,  of  every  name  and  nature, 
to  the  advancement  of  science  and  art." 

It  often  happens  that  the  acquisition  of  large  wealth  is  at- 
tended by  a  certain  dwarfing  of  moral  and  mental  qualities. 
The  money-getter  neglects  (perhaps  he  must  neglect)  activities 
and  sympathies  which  would  win  to  him  more  closely  his  fel- 
low-men. This  was  not  Peter  Cooper's  ill-fortune.  His  aims 
were  neither  petty  nor  contracted.  He  entered  with  hearty 
zest  into  many  far-reaching  public  enterprises  of  great  pith 
and  moment.     He  found  time  to  serve  his  fellow-citizens  in 


The  People's  Friend.  115 

the  local  government,  and  by  the  advocacy  of  what  he  consid- 
ered sound  ideas  of  political  economy.  He  was  foremost  in 
all  movements  for  the  wider  dissemination  of  knowledge.  He 
was  a  delighted  and  assiduous  student  of  art,  a  builder  of  libra- 
ries, and  a  friend  of  struggling  genius.  He  had  a  helping  hand 
for  every  new  invention  which  promised  to  benefit  mankind. 
With  all  these  admirable  qualities,  he  was  thoroughly  unself- 
ish, averse  to  praise  and  notoriety,  and  gifted  with  the  single- 
heartedness  and  simplicity  of  a  child. 

His  kind  and  loving  heart  is  still.  His  keen  old  eyes  are 
closed.  The  thoughtful  brain,  once  so  fertile  in  devices  for 
the  elevation,  enlightenment,  and  amelioration  of  the  condition 
of  his  fellow-men,  has  gone  to  rest.  But  the  memory  and  the 
example  of  Peter  Cooper  the  practical  philanthropist,  the  true 
Christian,  the  friend  of  the  people,  will  long  survive  to  inspire 
and  bless  unnumbered  generations. 

He  died  calmly  anticipating  the  end  of  a  life  well  spent — 
an  end  which  he  himself  believed  to  be  not  far  distant — at 
peace  with  all  men,  conscious  that  the  world  was  better  because 
he  had  lived  in  it,  but  with  not  one  thought  or  word  of  boast- 
ing in  regard  to  what  he  had  done.  A  kind-hearted,  well-mean- 
ing, good  old  man,  he  richly  deserves,  and  will  surely  receive, 
every  blessing  which  may  be  in  store  for  those  who  have 
"  fought  the  good  fight." 


He  Served  the  State. 


HANNIBAL    HAMLIN. 


He  Served  the  State. 


HANNIBAL    HAMLIN. 


"OLD  MAINE." 

On  a  bright  summer  morning,  in  the  year  1809,  the  unpre- 
tentious home  of  Dr.  Cyrus  Hamlin,  in  the  little  village  of 
Paris,  Maine,  was  the  scene  of  unusual  commotion.  A  son  had 
been  born,  and  the  excitement  and  joy  of  the  Doctor  and  his 
good  wife  were,  to  a  certain  extent,  shared  by  all  their  neigh- 
bors. That  such  should  be  the  case  was  not  to  be  wondered 
at.  The  Hamlins  were  popular  people  in  the  old  Pine  Tree 
District.  Their  ancestors  had  been  among  the  earliest  settlers  of 
Massachusetts ;  Eleazer  Hamlin,  the  father  of  Cyrus,  had  brave- 
ly commanded  a  company  of  "minute-men"  in  the  Revolution- 
ary war,  and  at  one  time  had  five  of  his  own  sons  enrolled  un- 
der him.  These  services,  and  others  of  a  public  character,  were 
still  fresh  in  the  grateful  memory  of  the  hardy  New  England 
settlers  ;  and  so,  when  the  gossips  of  little  Paris  announced  that 
Anna  Livermore,  the  wife  of  Cyrus  Hamlin  and  the  daughter 
of  Deacon  Elijah  Livermore,  part  proprietor  of  a  historic  town- 
ship in  the  famous  valley  of  the  Androscoggin,  had  become 
the  happy  mother  of  a  strong  and  healthy  boy,  there  was,  as 
has  been  said,  much  commotion  and  rejoicing  among  the 
neighbors.  Could  they  have  looked  but  a  little  way  into  the 
future  their  mild  excitement  would  doubtless  have  given  place 
to  unbounded  astonishment,  and  their  quiet  joy  to  great  pride ; 


1 1 8  Twelve  Americans. 

for  such  a  view  of  the  time  to  come  would  have  shown  them 
that  Hannibal  Hamlin,  the  little  stranger  whose  advent  was 
welcomed  as  described,  was  destined  to  become  one  of  the  fore- 
most figures  in  a  great  nation,  was  to  do  his  country  great  ser- 
vice, to  receive  the  thanks  of  millions  of  people,  and  honorably 
to  fill  many  of  the  highest  positions  in  the  Kepublic.  But  in 
those  early  days  there  was  to  be  found  no  evidence  of  the 
great  fortune  in  store  for  the  boy.  llis  family,  though  among 
the  most  prominent  in  Eastern  Maine,  was  not  too  well  pro- 
vided with  this  world's  goods,  and  from  the  first  young  Hanni- 
bal was  taught  that  he  would  be  called  upon  at  an  early  age  to 
shift  for  himself.  This  knowledge,  coupled  with  natural  incli- 
nation, soon  made  him  noted  for  industry,  and  at  the  district 
school,  which  he  attended  until  his  twelfth  year,  and  subse- 
quently at  the  Hebron  Academy,  he  was  ranked  among  the 
most  hard-working,  if  not  among  the  most  brilliant  and  talent- 
ed, of  the  students.  From  this,  however,  it  must  not  be  argued 
that  the  lad  was  a  book-worm,  or  that  he  engaged  in  the  con- 
stant labor  which  is  said  to  make  "  Jack  a  dull  boy."  On  the 
contrary,  he  found  ample  time  to  engage  in  all  the  athletic 
sports  of  his  companions  and  in  the  peculiar  "frolics"  of  "old 
Maine."  One  incident  in  connection  with  the  latter,  which  he 
still  relates  to  those  who  enjoy  his  intimate  acquaintance,  well 
illustrates  the  custom  and  spirit  of  "the  days  that  are  gone." 
At  the  time  in  question,  strange  though  it  may  seem  to  those 
who  have  recently  travelled  from  Portland  to  Bangor  without 
being  able  to  find  stimulating  liquor  in  any  form,  there  was 
no  total  abstinence  cant  in  Maine.  Good  old  Medford  and  Ja- 
maica rum  was  to  be  had  in  all  the  taverns  and  in  nearly  every 
household  ;  and,  while  there  was  very  little  drinking  to  excess, 
the  great  majority  of  the  people  took  an  occasional  glass.  In- 
deed, the  host  who  did  not  invite  his  guests,  particularly  those 
from  a  distance,  to  "  take  a  drop  of  something,"  was  regarded 
as  anything  but  a  generous  or  agreeable  fellow. 


He  Served  the  State.  119 

At  that  time,  too,  a  custom  very  popular  among  extensive 
farmers  was  to  give  what  were  called  "  husking-parties."  To 
these  all  the  young  men  and  women  of  the  neighborhood  were 
invited.  They  were  plentifully  supplied  with  good  things ; 
their  elders  were  made  comfortable  with  well-coucocted  punch, 
and  in  return  for  this  hospitality  all  the  company,  old  and 
young,  helped  to  husk  the  farmers'  corn.  That  young  men  of 
proper  spirit  were  particularly  active  in  the  work  will  be  read- 
ily understood,  when  it  is  stated  that  to  the  fortunate  "  busk- 
er "  who  found  a  red  ear  was  accorded  the  right — a  right,  by- 
the-way,  which  could  not  be  disputed  without  giving  gross 
offence — to  kiss  any  girl  in  the  company.  It  was  this  custom 
which  gave  rise  to  the  once  famous  couplet : 

"  I  would  not  husk  for  cows  or  steers  : 
I'd  only  husk  to  get  red  ears." 

One  evening,  at  a  party  of  this  sort,  to  which  young  Hamlin 
and  his  companions  in  the  Hebron  Academy  were  invited,  a 
certain  old  gentleman,  whose  name  need  not  here  be  mention- 
ed, took  rather  more  Medford  rum  than  was  good  for  him. 
In  fact,  he  became  disagreeably  boisterous.  At  this  the  school- 
boys took  offence,  and  to  bring  the  old  toper  to  his  senses  they 
pelted  him  with  hard  ears  of  corn,  and,  with  more  vigor  than 
ceremony,  rolled  him  in  the  husks.  The  result  of  this  treat- 
ment was,  that  the  old  fellow  left  the  party  with  a  black  eye 
and  a  very  sore  body.  It  was  expected  that  this  would  end 
the  matter.  Those  who  held  to  this  view,  however,  were  sur- 
prised early  the  next  morning  to  hear  that  all  the  Academy 
boys  who  attended  the  party  had  been  arrested  on  a  warrant 
charging  them  with  assault  and  battery.  Without  delay  they 
were  taken  before  the  justice  of  the  peace,  who  held  his  court 
in  an  old  kitchen,  and  who  was  proceeding,  in  very  pompous 
fashion,  to  try  the  case,  when  suddenly  the  floor  of  the  apart- 
ment gave  way  beneath  the  unusual  strain  to  which  it  was  sub- 


120  Ticelve  Americans. 

jected,  and  the  justice  and  complainant,  students,  witnesses,  and 
spectators,  together  with  the  family  cat,  chairs,  tables,  pots, 
pans,  and  a  closet  full  of  crockery,  were  precipitated  en  masse 
into  the  cellar.  The  old  people  cried  out  with  alarm  ;  the 
self-important  justice  of  the  peace  bewailed  his  broken  furni- 
ture and  china  ;  the  boys,  finding  that  nobody  was  hurt,  laugh- 
ed heartily  at  the  disaster  which  had  fallen  upon  their  prose- 
cutors ;  and  at  last  the  court  was  adjourned  to  the  Academy. 
Here  Hannibal  Hamlin,  among  the  rest,  was  called  upon  to 
testify. 

As  he  went  upon  the  stand — a  tall,  black-eyed  boy — there 
was  a  buzz  of  expectation  among  the  spectators,  and  smoth- 
ered exclamations  of  "Give  it  to  them,  '  Hanny  I1 "  from  his 
school  friends;  this  commotion,  as  must  be  explained,  being 
due  to  the  fact  that  the  boy  was  known  to  have  taken  quite  an 
interest  in  recent  trials  which  had  occurred  in  the  local  courts, 
and  because  it  was  believed  that  he  had  at  odd  times  picked 
up  law  enough  to  be  more  than  a  match  for  the  thick-witted 
justice  of  the  peace.     This  proved  to  be  the  case. 

"Did  you  throw  any  ear  of  corn  at  the  plaintiff?"  was  the 
first  question  asked,  with  a  frown,  by  the  court. 

"  Xo,  sir,"  answered  Hannibal,  with  a  sly  twinkle  in  his 
bright  eye,  yet  with  admirable  gravity ;  "  no,  sir,  I  did  not 
throw  any  ear  of  corn  at  the  plaintiff." 

"  Do  you  swear  you  did  not  2" 

"  I  swear  I  did  not,"  answered  the  boy.  For  a  moment  the 
court  paused,  looked  grave,  and  then  asked, 

"Did  you  see  any  oue  else  throw  any  ear  of  corn  at  the 
plaintiff  V 

"  That,"  replied  Hannibal,  with  perfect  coolness,  "  is  a  ques- 
tion which  I  cannot  answer,  and  which  your  honor  has  no 
right  to  ask  me." 

Then  for  fully  five  minutes  he  went  on  to  cite  law  points  in 
support  of  his  position,  all  the  time  employing  technical  terms 


He  Served  the  State.  121 

which  were  so  much  Greek  to  the  justice,  until  at  last  that  dis- 
comfited and  completely  crestfallen  official,  greatly  confused, 
and  amid  loud  laughter,  discharged  Hamlin,  fined  a  number  of 
the  boys  a  dollar  each,  and  then  quickly  adjourned  the  court. 

There  is  little  doubt  that  this  incident  did  much  to  turn 
young  Hamlin's  attention  to  the  legal  profession,  in  which  he 
subsequently  became  successful.  Originally  his  father  in- 
tended to  give  him  the  advantages  of  a  collegiate  education, 
and  when  he  was  about  entering  upon  his  sixteenth  year  he 
was  nearly  prepared  to  enter  a  university.  At  that  time,  how- 
ever, the  health  of  his  brother  Cyrus,  who  was  to  have  con- 
ducted the  farm  at  home,  failed.  He  was  sent  to  study  medi- 
cine, and  Hannibal,  with  some  regrets  —  unnecessary  ones,  as 
the  event  proved — was  called  home  to  take  his  place. 

In  connection  with  this  portion  of  the  young  man's  life  it  is 
only  necessary  to  say  that  he  faithfully  performed  all  the  many 
hard  tasks  with  which  he  was  charged.  Among  them  was  the 
surveying,  in  the  company  of  an  odd  character  of  the  time, 
named  Ellis — a  man  who  was  never  quite  happy  unless  away 
from  civilization — of  a  tract  of  land,  in  part  the  property  of 
his  father,  and  which  was  situated  upon  the  Dead  River,  many 
miles  distant  from  any  habitation.  To  do  this  work  the  boy 
was  obliged  to  go  into  what  was  then  a  wilderness  on  snow- 
shoes,  carrying  provisions  for  six  weeks  with  him.  For  more 
than  that  period  he  and  his  companion  remained  in  the  forest, 
subjected  to  many  hardships.  Seven  feet  of  snow  was  under 
them  ;  and  at  night,  when,  weary  with  the  labors  of  the  day, 
they  rolled  themselves  in  their  blankets  and  went  to  sleep,  they 
were  never  sure  that  some  storm  of  unusual  violence  might  not 
come  to  overwhelm  them.  Fortunately,  however,  they  met  with 
no  serious  mishap,  and  in  due  time  found  themselves  back  in 
the  comfortable,  though  humble,  dwelling-places  of  the  village. 

For  more  than  a  year  after  this,  young  Hannibal,  who  had 
grown  rapidly  in  stature  and  knowledge,  was  engaged  in  very 


122  Twelve  Americans. 

hard  and  uninteresting  work  about  his  father's  stony  and  not 
over-productive  farm.  Then  he  began  to  vary  this  labor  by 
teaching  a  district  school  near  by,  for  which  service  he  earned 
the  first  money  that  he  could  call  his  own.  With  the  aid  of 
the  funds  thus  acquired,  and  by  the  direction  of  his  father, 
he  began  to  study  law  with  his  brother  Elijah.  He  was  now 
eighteen  years  of  age,  strong  in  mind  and  body,  and  fully 
aasured  that  at  last  he  was  to  be  left  undisturbed  in  the  pur- 
suit of  a  profession  which  was  most  congenial  to  him.  In 
this,  however,  he  was  mistaken,  for,  even  while  he  was  in  the 
midst  of  rejoicing  over  what  he  regarded  as  the  bright  pros- 
pect opening  before  him,  he  was  overwhelmed  with  grief  by 
the  announcement  of  the  sudden  death  of  his  father.  This 
sad  event  made  it  necessary  for  him  again  to  give  up  his  stud- 
ies and  return  to  care  for  the  homestead  and  his  mother.  The 
necessity  was  a  severe  one ;  but  he  met  his  trouble  manfully, 
and  in  after-life  had  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  he  did  all 
he  could  to  return  the  care  and  attention  of  the  best  and  kind- 
est of  parents.  Engaged  in  this  labor  of  love,  he  remained  at 
home  for  two  years.  But  during  all  the  time  he  Avas  continu- 
ally impelled,  by  that  instinct  with  which  some  men  are  born, 
to  seek  more  active  employment — some  pursuit  in  which  he 
might  have  the  excitement  of  mingling  freely  with  thinking 
men.  The  direct  result  of  this  desire  was  the  purchase  by  him 
— in  partnership  with  Horatio  King,  afterward  well  known  in 
connection  with  the  Postmaster-general's  office — of  the  Jcffer- 
sonian,  a  weekly  political  newspaper,  published  in  Paris.  Of 
the  money  necessary  to  make  this  purchase  $250  had  been 
willed  to  him  by  his  father,  and  the  rest  he  had  earned  and 
saved  himself.  While  connected  with  the  paper  it  is  notice- 
able that  he  learned  to  set  type,  and  ultimately  became  so  pro- 
ficient in  the  art  that  he  was  able  to  "  set "  his  contributions 
"  hot  from  the  brain,"  and  without  having  first  reduced  them 
to  writing. 


He  Served  the  State.  123 

In  this  business  he  continued  for  several  months;  but  at  last, 
by  the  advice  of  his  mother  and  friends,  he  sold  out  his  inter- 
est in  the  paper  to  Mr.  King,  and  again  took  up  the  study  of 
his  chosen  profession,  the  law.  This  time  he  entered  the  of- 
fice of  Joseph  G.  Cole,  who  was  afterward  a  Judge  of  the  Dis- 
trict Court  of  Maine,  and  for  three  years  he  continued  to  study 
under  that  gentleman,  and  afterward  with  Messrs.  Fessenden, 
Deblois  &  Fessenden,  of  Portland.  Subsequently,  it  may  be 
stated  in  passing,  the  junior  member  of  the  firm  became  his 
distinguished  associate  in  the  United  States  Senate.  Complet- 
ing his  studies  under  such  able  direction,  young  Hamlin,  in 
January,  1833,  being  then  a  strong  and  well-developed  young 
man  of  twenty-four,  was  admitted  to  the  Bar  in  his  native 
village  of  Paris,  not  far  from  the  scene  of  his  early  encounter 
with  the  justice  of  the  peace.  On  the  same  day,  singularly 
enough,  he  won  his  first  law  case,  and  accidentally  found  his 
way  into  the  good  graces  of  his  future  father-in-law.  The  in- 
cidents leading  up  to  these,  for  him,  important  results  were  not 
without  interest. 

While  Mr.  Hamlin  was  still  a  law  student  with  Judge  Cole, 
a  client  of  the  latter,  named  Houghton,  came  to  the  office  to 
secure  the  services  of  the  Judge  in  a  case  which  he  had  before 
the  justice  of  the  peace.  Hamlin  was  alone  in  the  office  at 
the  time,  and  the  Judge  could  not  be  found.  In  his  dilemma 
Mr.  Houghton  explained  to  the  young  man  that  a  valuable 
cow  of  his  had  been  kicked  to  death  by  the  horse  of  a  neigh- 
bor; that  he  had  brought  suit  to  recover  damages,  and  that 
the  case  was  that  hour  to  be  argued  before  the  justice.  In 
conclusion  he  begged  the  young  man  to  make  his  argument 
before  the  petty  court.  This  the  law  student  did,  and  suc- 
ceeded in  securing  a  decision  favorable  to  his  client.  Subse- 
quently, however,  the  case  was  appealed,  and  on  the  very  day 
upon  which  Hamlin  was  admitted  to  the  Bar  it  came  up  be- 
fore the  higher  court.     Judge  Cole,  when  it  was  called,  went 


124  Twelve  Americo/rid. 

to  the  newly-made  lawyer  and  told  him  that  he  would  have  to 
argue  it.  After  some  objection  he  consented  ;  and  then,  much 
to  his  consternation,  when  it  was  too  late,  he  discovered  that  the 
advocate  opposed  to  him  was  Judge  Emery,  one  of  the  ablest 
jurists  in  the  State.  There  being  no  help  for  it,  however,  he 
assumed  an  air  of  confidence  which  he  was  very  far  from  feel- 
ing, went  on  with  the  trial,  and  addressed  the  jury  with  such 
clearness  and  ability  that  without  delay  they  rendered  a  ver- 
dict in  favor  of  his  client,  who,  by -the -way,  was  ever  after 
a  great  admirer  of  Mr.  Hamlin — so  great  an  admirer,  in  fact, 
that  he  subsequently  named  one  of  his  boys  Hannibal  Hamlin 
Houghton.  A  few  months  after  this,  his  first  trial  and  tri- 
umph before  the  courts,  young  Hamlin  was  married  to  the 
daughter  of  his  opponent,  Judge  Emery.  Later  in  life,  his 
first  wife  having  died,  he  married  a  second  daughter  of  Judge 
Emery. 

During  all  these  years  of  his  early  manhood  it  is  noticeable 
that  Mr.  Hamlin  never  had  any  thought  of  being  chosen  to 
public  office.  Still,  even  during  the  lifetime  of  his  father  he 
took  the  warmest  interest  in  State  and  local  politics ;  and,  sin- 
gularly enough,  though  his  father  was  a  Whig,  he  early  in  life 
became  an  ardent  Democrat.  His  feeling  in  this  direction  he 
(perhaps  very  properly)  attributes  to  the  fact  that  two  Portland 
papers  were  taken  by  his  family,  one  Whig  in  politics,  the 
other  Democratic.  The  Whig  paper  being  most  in  demand, 
he  was  usually  obliged  to  content  himself  with  the  Democratic 
sheet,  and  after  a  time  he  had  so  far  imbibed  its  principles  as 
to  be  an  outspoken  Democrat,  and  ready  at  all  times  to  argue 
against  the  doctrines  of  the  Whigs.  His  father,  a  shrewd  and 
thoughtful  man,  saw  that  the  Whig  Party  was  soon  to  be 
shelved  in  Maine,  and  instead  of  repressing  rather  encouraged 
this  spirit.  Still,  he  frequently,  when  his  son  became  unduly 
excited,  said  to  him,  laughingly,  "  Let  yourself  live  a  little  longer 
before  you  get  actively  into  politics ;  then  you  will  know  more." 


He  Served  the  State.  125 

Thus  admonished,  the  young  man  for  a  time  took  no 
prominent  part  in  the  political  discussions  going  on  about  him. 
Listening  closely,  however,  and  weighing  Avell  the  arguments 
which  he  heard  on  both  sides,  he  became  more  and  more  firm- 
ly attached  to  the  Democratic  Party.  Meanwhile,  having  re- 
moved, with  his  newly-wedded  wife,  to  the  town  of  Hampden, 
near  Bangor,  on  the  Penobscot,  he  soon  became  known  as  one 
of  the  ablest  lawyers  and  most  forcible  speakers  in  that  part 
of  the  State.  With  such  a  reputation  it  was  not  possible  for 
him  to  remain  longer  aloof  from  political  debate.  Little  by 
little  he  gained  popularity  among  the  steadily-growing  Dem- 
ocratic Party  until  1836,  when  he  was  elected  to  represent 
Hampden  in  the  State  Legislature.  To  this  office  he  was 
chosen  for  five  successive  terms.  At  once  lie  took  a  promi- 
nent position  in  the  House,  and  was  soon  recognized  as  the 
Democratic  leader.  So  true  was  this,  that  during  his  second 
term  he  was,  without  serious  opposition,  elected  to  the  Speaker- 
ship, and  subsequently,  in  1839  and  1840,  was  again  chosen  for 
the  same  position.  In  all  these  contests,  and  in  all  the  impor- 
tant debates  which  took  place  in  the  Legislature,  Mr.  Hamlin's 
principal  opponent  was  the  acknowledged  Whig  leader,  Elisha 
II.  Allen.  For  many  years,  and  during  many  subsequent  cam- 
paigns upon  a  broader  field,  it  is  remarkable  that  the  two 
gentlemen,  despite  their  political  differences,  were  the  warm- 
est personal  friends.  The  harmony  of  their  acquaintance  was 
broken  by  only  one  misunderstanding.  This  occurred  during 
Mr.  Hamlin's  service  in  the  Legislature.  During  this  time  he 
agreed  with  the  proprietors  of  the  Portland  Argus  to  write 
for  them  a  series  of  personal  sketches  of  the  members  of  the 
House  ;  Mr.  Roscoe  G.  Green,  another  prominent  Democrat,  to 
make  similar  sketches  of  the  Senators.  When,  in  the  perform- 
ance of  this  duty,  Mr.  Hamlin  found  it  necessary  to  write  about 
his  friend  Allen  he  was  sorely  puzzled.  He  could  not  bring 
himself  to  say  anything  unkind  of  his  personal  friend,  and  he 


12*6  Ticelve  Americans. 

did  not  care  to  print  anything  in  praise  of  the  man  who  led 
the  opposition  party.  As  a  way  out  of  this  difficulty  Mr. 
Hamlin  suggested  to  his  co-laborer,  Green,  that  he  should  write 
the  sketch  of  Allen.  This  was  agreed  to,  and  a  few  days  after 
there  appeared  in  the  Argus,  over  Hamlin's  nom  de  plume,  a 
most  scathing,  bitter,  and  in  many  respects  unjust,  attack  on 
the  Whig  leader.  It  created  much  commotion  in  the  House ; 
and  on  the  morning  of  its  appearance,  when  Mr.  Hamlin  (who 
had  not  seen  the  paper)  entered  the  Assembly  Chamber,  he  was 
greatly  surprised  to  notice  that  Allen  did  not  return  his  cordial 
salutation.  Later  in  the  day  he  asked  a  mutual  friend  what  in 
the  world  he  could  have  done  to  offend  that  gentleman.  He 
was  shown  the  paper  containing  Green's  article.  Hastily  read- 
ing it,  he  at  once  understood  the  situation,  and  without  cere- 
mony went  to  Allen  and  explained  the  whole  matter.  By  this 
sensible  course  the  two  gentlemen  became  more  firmly  united 
than  ever.  This,  however,  in  a  personal  sense  -only,  as  for  many 
years  afterward  they  continued  to  be  political  opponents.* 

II. 

IX   THE   NATION'S    CAPITOL. 

After  having  served  with  marked  distinction  in  the  Legis- 
lature, as  described,  Mr.  Hamlin,  in  1 S40,  at  the  height  of  the 
great  excitement  which  attended  the  Harrison  campaign,  re- 
ceived the  Democratic  nomination  for  Congress  in  the  Penob- 
scot district.  It  is  noteworthy  that  the  ^Vhig  candidate  was 
Mr.  Allen,  and  that,  for  the  first  time  in  the  history  of  the  pol- 


*  In  the  end — while  this  sketch  was  being  completed — the  venerable 
Senator  Hamlin  was  called  upon  to  take  a  prominent  part  in  the  exercises 
commemorating  the  death  of  his  old  friend,  Mr.  Allen,  who,  while  serving 
as  Hawaiian  Minister  to  the  United  States  (being  "the  Dean  of  the  Dip- 
lomatic Corps"),  dropped  dead  in  the  White  House,  on  the  1st  of  Janu- 
ary, 18S3,  while  attending  President  Arthur's  reception. 


He  Served  the  State.  127 

itics  of  Maine,  the  Democratic  nominee  canvassed  the  district 
with  his  opponent,  holding  joint  discussions  every  evening 
during  the  better  part  of  two  months.  Even  at  that  early 
day  there  began  to  exist  throughout  Maine  a  good  deal  of  feel- 
ing upon  the  slavery  question,  and  upon  that  question  it  must 
be  said,  to  his  enduring  credit,  that  Hannibal  Hamlin  from  the 
first  held  the  most  advanced  views.  During  all  the  bitter  dis- 
cussion which  followed,  up  to  the  time  of  the  war  and  after,  he 
was  always  pronounced  in  his  opposition  to  the  extension  of 
human  bondage.  Still,  his  antislavery  views  were  of  a  practi- 
cal character.  For  this  reason  he  never  joined  himself  to  any 
of  the  early  organizations  of  impracticable,  though  good  and 
earnest,  men  who  made  a  war  of  words  upon  the  pet  institu- 
tion of  the  South. 

In  his  first  canvass  for  Congress  he  was  the  victim  of  the 
Harrison  tornado,  which  for  the  time  overthrew  Democratic 
rule  in  Maine.  In  a  poll  of  15,000  votes  his  Whig  opponent, 
Mr.  Allen,  was  elected  by  a  majority  of  less  than  200.  Three 
years  later — a  postponement  of  the  election  having  occurred, 
in  order  to  accommodate  the  new  apportionment  under  the 
census — Mr.  Hamlin  was  triumphant,  being  elected  to  Congress 
over  his  old  competitor  by  a  majority  of  1000. 

The  first  trip  to  Washington  made  by  the  newly -elected 
member  was  principally  noticeable  for  the  varied  character  of 
the  conveyances  in  which  it  was  accomplished.  From  his  home 
Mr.  Hamlin  travelled  to  Portland  by  stage-coach ;  from  Port- 
land he  went  to  Boston  by  boat,  then  to  Norwich  by  rail ; 
from  the  latter  place  he  crossed  the  Sound  to  Greenport,  from 
there  took  the  Long  Island  Railroad  to  New  York ;  from  the 
latter  place  he  again  took  the  railway  to  Philadelphia,  from 
that  point  made  the  best  of  his  way  by  boat  and  stage-coach  to 
Baltimore,  and  from  the  Monumental  City  at  last  reached  the 
capital  by  rail.  Arriving  in  Washington  after  this  tedious 
journey,  he  found  it  to  be  a  straggling,  dilapidated,  and  over- 


128  Twelve  Americans. 

grown  village  of  less  than  20,000  inhabitants.  The  streets  of 
magnificent  houses  which  now  accommodate  the  one  hundred 
and  fifty  thousand  residents  of  the  place  were  then  utilized  as 
cow  -  pastures.  Pennsylvania  Avenue  was  then,  as  now,  the 
principal  street  of  the  place;  but  at  that  time  it  was — in  wet 
weather — paved  principally  with  two  feet  of  thick,  black  mud  ; 
while  in  dry  and  windy  weather  the  great  clouds  of  fine  dust 
which  arose  from  it  literally  obscured  the  day. 

In  those  "  good  old,  primitive,"  but,  as  even  their  warmest  ad- 
vocates must  confess,  decidedly  uncomfortable  times,  nine-tenths 
of  the  members  of  Congress  lived  in  what  were  called  "  messes ;" 
that  is  to  say,  it  was  the  habit  for  four,  five,  or  six,  and  some- 
times as  many  as  twelve  and  fourteen  of  them,  to  club  togeth- 
er, rent  a  house,  and  contract  with  the  landlady  or  some  caterer 
to  supply  them  with  meals.  The  messes  so  established  were 
exceedingly  exclusive,  it  being  the  rule  that  none  but  mem- 
bers should  be  permitted  at  table  without  the  consent  of  the 
whole  company ;  so  it  came  that  if  a  member  wished  to  invite 
his  brother  to  dinner  he  was  obliged  first  to  ask  the  consent  of 
all  the  gentlemen  in  the  "mess"  with  him.  Singularly  enough, 
a  refusal  to  grant  such  a  request  was  not  regarded  as  being  in 
any  way  offensive.  This  mode  of  mess-living,  as  may  be  add- 
ed, was  rendered  all  the  easier  because  of  the  fact  that  but  few 
members  of  Congress  at  that  time  ever  thought  of  bringing 
their  wives  or  other  female  relatives  to  Washington  with  them. 

Naturally  enough,  in  what  was  then  the  small  and  contracted 
political  and  social  circle  of  Washington  a  man  of  Mr.  Ham- 
lin's striking  appearance  and  many  attainments  was  not  long 
in  making  his  mark.  Tall  and  graceful  in  figure,  with  black, 
piercing  eyes,  a  skin  almost  olive-colored,  hair  smooth,  thick, 
and  jetty,  a  manner  always  courteous  and  affable,  the  new- 
member  soon  found  his  way  into  the  best  society  of  the  capi- 
tal. His  advancement  to  a  commanding  position  in  the  politi- 
cal world  was  quite  as  rapid.     Very  early  in  his  Congressional 


He  Served  the  State.  129 

career  lie  took  occasion,  in  a  speech  on  the  floor  of  the  House, 
to  state,  in  unequivocal  terras,  that  he  was  opposed  to  slavery. 
This  address — which,  hy-the-way,  was  never  adequately  report- 
ed, official  reporters  of  debates  being  then  unknown  in  Con- 
gress— attracted  much  attention,  and  created  no  little  excite- 
ment. When  he  had  finished  it  John  Quincy  Adams — short, 
thick-set,  and  bald,  slightly  pompous,  but  of  great  ability — went 
over  to  his  seat,  held  out  his  hand  to  Mr.  Hamlin,  and  said, 
"  Light  breaketh  in  the  east,  sir ;  light  breaketh  in  the  east." 
To  this  day  Mr.  Hamlin  remembers  Mr.  Adams  as  one  of 
the  greatest  men  it  was  ever  his  fortune  to  meet.  So  great, 
indeed,  was  the  ability  which  he  displayed  in  Congress  that  one 
of  his  fellow-members  once  said  of  him,  "  It  is  useless  to  de- 
bate with  Adams.  He  knows  so  much  that,  one  way  or  anoth- 
er, and  despite  the  devil,  he  can,  when  he  will,  make  the  great- 
est wrong  appear  to  be  the  greatest  right." 

Remarkable  as  was  the  ability  of  his  great  ancestor,  however, 
it  may  incidentally  be  mentioned  that  Charles  Francis  Adams, 
the  son  of  John  Quincy  Adams,  never  permitted  himself  to 
trade  upon  the  reputation  of  his  father.  At  one  time,  years 
after  this  his  first  appearance  in  Congress,  Mr.  Hamlin,  with 
"Jack"  Hale  and  four  or  five  other  eminent  speakers,  was  as- 
signed, with  Mr.  Charles  Francis  Adams,  to  address  a  monster 
political  meeting.  In  the  course  of  their  addresses  a  number 
of  the  gentlemen,  evidently  to  Mr.  Adams's  dissatisfaction,  re- 
ferred to  him,  in  the  most  complimentary  way,  as  the  son  of 
"  the  great  John  Quincy  Adams,"  and  "  the  grandson  of  the 
great  John  Adams."  At  last  the  gentleman  who  presented 
the  scion  of  the  illustrious  New  England  house  added  the  last 
straw  to  the  embarrassment  of  the  occasion  by  saying,  "  I  now 
have  the  honor  to  introduce  to  you  the  son  of  the  great  John 
Quincy  Adams."  This  was  more  than  the  younger  member  of 
the  old  house  could  bear.  He  bowed  low  to  the  cheers  of  the 
crowd,  and  then,  with  marked  emphasis,  said, 

6* 


13b  Twelve  Americans. 

"  I  •wish  it  distinctly  understood  that  I  appear  before  you 
as  myself  —  as  Charles  Francis  Adams  —  not  as  the  son  or 
grandson  of  any  man."  Then  he  went  on  forcibly  to  address 
the  meeting. 

Farther,  regarding  Mr.  Hamlin's  acquaintance  with  Mr.  John 
Quincy  Adams — for  whom  it  has  already  been  stated  he  always 
entertained  the  highest  respect — it  may  be  said  that,  during  the 
same  session  of  Congress  in  which  they  became  acquainted, 
Mr.  Hamlin  made  his  famous  speech  in  regard  to  the  annexa- 
tion of  Texas.  It  must  be  distinctly  understood  that  he  was 
not  opposed  to  that  measure ;  but  he  objected  to  the  terms  of 
the  joint  resolution  which  provided  for  it,  and  voted  against 
that  resolution.  At  the  same  time  he  eloquently  expressed  re- 
gret that  a  great  national  question  had  been  dragged  down 
from  its  own  proper  sphere  until  it  had  become  a  wretched 
and  contemptible  scheme  for  extending  and  perpetuating 
slavery.  In  the  same  speech  Mr.  Hamlin,  with  more  of  proph- 
ecy than  even  he  knew,  gave  warning  of  the  sectional  strife 
winch  was  to  eventuate,  in  the  following  words : 

"  I  glory  in  New  England  !  I  glory  in  her  free  schools,  her  free  labor, 
her  fearless  enterprise,  her  indomitable  energy  !  With  her  rocky  hills,  her 
torrent  streams,  her  green  valleys,  her  heavenward  -  pointed  spires,  she 
stands  a  moral  monument,  around  which  the  gratitude  of  her  country 
binds  the  wreath  of  Fame,  while  protected  Freedom  shall  repose  forever  at 
its  base.  While  I  thus  glory  in  New  England,  however,  I  meet  not  my 
Southern  brethren  with  any  brand  of  discord,  but  with  the  olive-branch  of 
peace.  I  meet  them  in  the  spirit  of  harmony ;  still,  I  desire,  above  other 
considerations,  to  meet  them  on  even  ground — on  ground  alike  respectful 
to  the  North  and  to  the  South — and  I  invoke  them  to  perform  this  great 
national  act  in  such  a  manner  that  Southern  and  Northern  hands  may 
unite  in  raising  the  Stars  and  Stripes  of  our  beloved  Union,  and  that 
Southern  and  Northern  hearts  may  rejoice  to  behold  them  floating  to- 
gether over  the  rich  and  fertile  Texan  plains.  J  ask,  will  not  the  gentle- 
men meet  us  here  ?  Will  they  not  rescue  this  measure  alike  from  danger 
and  reproach,  and  put  it  in  a  shape  to  gratify  us  all  ?  I  entreat  them  to 
look  at  the  question  in  all  the  lights  of  cool  reflection  before  they  finally 
reject  the  compromise  which,  while  it  secures  them  an  inestimable  benefit, 
does  equal  justice  to  all  sections  and  all  interests  of  the  Union." 


lie  Served  the  State.  131 

It  is  needless  to  state  that  this  appeal  was  without  immediate 
effect ;  still,  it  clearly  defined  Mr.  Hamlin's  status  on  the  slavery 
question,  and  hastened  on  the  stirring  events  which  were  to 
come. 

After  his  eminent  services  in  the  Twenty-eighth  Congress 
Mr.  Hamlin's  friends  naturally  found  no  difficulty  in  securing 
his  unanimous  renomination  for  a  second  term.  Mr.  Abraham 
Sanborn  was  his  Whig  competitor,  but  from  the  outset  he  had 
no  prospect  of  success.  Hamlin  was  re-elected  by  a  very  large 
majority. 

III. 

THE  WILMOT   PROVISO. 

During  his  second  term  in  Congress  Mr.  Hamlin  became 
more  and  more  identified  with  the  antislavery  men  at  the  cap- 
ital. In  one  of  his  speeches  he  took  occasion  to  distinctly 
explain  his  position  in  regard  to  the  annexation  of  Texas, 
and  fitly  denounced  the  refusal  of  the  South  to  agree  to  any 
division  of  the  territory  between  slave  and  free  labor.  At  the 
same  time  he  announced,  in  the  most  explicit  manner,  that  any 
farther  attempt  to  extend  slavery  would  meet  with  determined 
opposition  from  him.  For  these  and  other  similar  remarks  he 
began  to  be  cordially  detested  by  a  large  number  of  his  party 
associates,  and  there  was  some  talk  of  publicly  censuring  him. 
This  scheme,  however,  his  enemies  had  the  good-sense  to  aban- 
don. Shortly  afterward  he  took  so  pronounced  a  stand  as  to 
leave  him  almost  beyond  the  influence  of  the  organization  to 
which  he  belonged.  This  he  did  in  connection  with  the  fa- 
mous Wilmot  Proviso. 

In  regard  to  that  measure  there  has  always  existed  an  ex- 
ceedingly erroneous  impression.  Most  people  naturally  assume 
that  the  Wilmot  Proviso,  so-called,  was  presented  in  the  House 
by  Mr.  Wilmot.  This  is  not  the  case.  The  whole  truth  in 
regard  to  the  matter  can  now  be  fully  told. 


13-  Twelve  Americans. 

AVhile  tliere  was  pending  in  the  House  of  the  Twenty-ninth 
Congress  the  measure  known  as  the  "  Three  Million  Bill,"  ap- 
propriating that  amount  for  the  purpose  of  bringing  the  Mexi- 
can war  to  an  end,  there  was  great  anxiety  on  the  part  of  the 
antislavery  men  to  have  added  to  the  bill  a  proviso  inhibiting 
slavery  in  all  the  territory  acquired  by  virtue  of  the  appropria- 
tion. To  this  end  there  was  a  meeting  held  by  some  thirty 
members  of  the  House,  among  them  Preston  King,  George 
Rathbun,  Hannibal  Hamlin,  and  David  Wilmot.  At  that  meet- 
ing Mr.  Hamlin  suggested  that  an  inadequate  proviso,  submit- 
ted by  Mr.  Brinkerhoff  (then  a  prominent  member  from  Ohio), 
should  be  withdrawn,  and  that  an  amendment,  embodying  all 
the  principles  for  which  the  antislavery  men  fought,  should 
be  presented  by  Mr.  Wilmot.  This  was  agreed  to,  Mr.  Wilmot 
being  selected  to  present  the  measure,  as  may  now  be  stated, 
principally  because  of  the  fact  that  he  had  recently  made  a 
pronounced  free -trade  speech,  which  gave  him  considerable 
popularity  among  members  from  the  South.  It  was  believed 
that,  because  of  this,  such  a  measure  presented  by  him  would 
receive  more  favor  from  them  than  if  it  came  from  any  other 
direction. 

After  the  meeting  of  conference  which  decided  upon  this 
action  the  debate  on  the  "  Three  Million  Bill "  ran  on  for  sev- 
eral days,  the  House  being  in  Committee  of  the  "Whole.  At 
last,  however,  the  discussion  was  finished.  The  opportunity 
long  looked  for  by  the  antislavery  men  had  at  last  arrived, 
and — 

"  Now  is  the  time !  Where  is  Wilmot  ?  "Where  is  Wil- 
mot?"' was  anxiously  whispered  by  one  and  another  of  them. 

But  to  the  question,  "Where  is  Wilmot?"  no  man  could 
give  a  response. 

The  supreme  moment  had  come,  and  the  chief  actor  in  what 
had  long  been  anticipated  as  a  great  scene  was  not  at  his 
post. 


He  Served  the  State.  133 

"  Run  into  the  cloak-rooms  !"  cried  Preston  King.  "  Search 
for  him  in  the  lobbies,"  said  Rathbun. 

But  none  of  these  suggestions  resulted  as  was  hoped — Wil- 
mot  was  nowhere  to  be  found.  The  antislavery  men  were  in 
the  direst  confusion,  Hannibal  Hamlin  alone  being  entirely 
calm  and  collected.  He  was  fully  aware  that  the  Proviso 
would  have  to  be  adopted  in  the  Committee  of  the  Whole,  if 
at  all,  for  he  was  informed  that  if  it  was  not  so  presented  there 
had  been  an  agreement,  after  the  committee  rose,  to  call  the 
previous  question  in  the  House,  thus  shutting  off  all  possibility 
of  amending  the  bill.  Knowing  all  this,  and  even  as  the  com- 
mittee was  about  to  rise,  Mr.  Hamlin  obtained  the  floor  and 
succeeded  in  offering  the  Proviso.  There  was  a  sigh  of  relief 
among  the  antislavery  party,  confusion  among  the  members 
from  the  South,  and  the  roll-call  proceeded.  It  resulted  in  the 
passage  of  the  Proviso  by  a  vote  of  115  to  106. 

While  the  roll-call  was  in  progress  David  Wilmot  —  stout 
and  unwieldy  of  form,  out  of  breath,  and  perspiring  at  every 
pore — rushed  into  the  chamber. 

"  There  he  is,  there  he  is,  the  traitor !"   cried  half  a 

dozen  of  those  who  had  been  his  warm  friends.  To  them  Mr. 
Hamlin  said,  quietly, 

"Don't  be  in  a  hurry,  gentlemen  ;  don't  condemn  him  with- 
out a  hearing.     Let  us  see  how  he  votes." 

At  that  moment  the  Clerk  called,  "  Mr.  Wilmot !"  For  an 
instant  there  was  a  hush  in  the  House ;  and  then,  in  a  strong, 
firm  voice,  Wilmot  voted  "  Aye." 

Immediately  afterward  a  score  of  his  associates,  Mr.  Hamlin 
among  the  number,  crowded  about  him  in  the  cloak-room,  and, 
with  more  or  less  excitement,  demanded  to  know  why  he  had 
not  been  in  the  House  to  present  the  Proviso. 

"  Give  me  a  moment  to  get  my  breath,  gentlemen — give  me 
a  moment  to  get  my  breath,"  he  said,  and  then  went  on : 

"  Just  as  I  was  coming  to  the  House  I  received  a  note  from 


134  Twelve  Americans. 

President  Polk  asking  me  to  come  to  the  White  House  imme- 
diately. On  one  pretext  or  another  he  kept  me  in  conversa- 
tion for  a  long  time.  I  had  no  watch  with  me,  and  did  not 
know  how  rapidly  the  moments  flew.  When  I  left  the  White 
House,  however,  I  found,  to  my  consternation,  that  I  might  not 
be  in  time  to  offer  our  measure ;  then,  with  all  the  rapidity  I 
could,  I  hastened  to  the  Capitol.  The  rest  you  know.  This, 
my  friends,  I  declare  to  you,  upon  my  honor  as  a  man,  is  the 
whole  truth."  Saying  which,  Mr.  Wilmot  for  a  moment  paused, 
and  then  added,  "  But,  by  Heaven  !  I  shall  believe  to  my  dying 
day  that  the  President  purposely  detained  me,  with  the  expec- 
tation of  defeating  the  Proviso." 

It  is  almost  needless  to  say  that  Mr.  Hamlin  had  never 
doubted  Wilmot's  integrity  or  his  fidelity  to  the  antislavery 
cause.  He,  together  with  Preston  King,  Rathbun,  and  the 
rest,  offered  him  their  warmest  sympathy  for  the  circum- 
stances which  prevented  him  from  presenting  the  measure 
which  bears  his  name,  and  so  the  matter  ended. 

Hannibal  Hamlin's  four  years  of  eminent  service  in  the 
House  eminently  qualified  him  for  the  higher  duties  which  he 
was  shortly,  in  another  sphere,  to  be  called  upon  to  perform. 
At  this  time — in  1846 — it  became  the  duty  of  the  Legislature 
to  vote  for  a  United  States  Senator.  Mr.  Hamlin  became  a 
candidate  for  that  position.  He  was  defeated  by  just  one 
vote.  The  incident  which  led  to  that  defeat  is  an  exceedingly 
humorous  and  suggestive  one.  At  the  time  in  question  the 
Legislature  did  not  meet  in  joint  convention  to  elect  a  Sena- 
tor; it  was  necessary  that  both  the  upper  and  lower  Houses, 
meeting  separately,  should  cast  their  votes  for  that  officer.  In 
those  days  the  Maine  Legislature  was  composed  of  one  hun- 
dred members  in  the  House  and  twenty-five  in  the  Senate.  In 
the  House  Mr.  Hamlin's  friends  were  in  the  majority ;  in  the 
Senate  he  had  twelve  votes,  while  his  opponents  had  thirteen. 
How  he  earned  the  enmity  of  one  of  these  may  be  briefly  told. 


He  Served  the  State.  135 

While  he  was  Speaker  of  the  Maine  Assembly  there  was  in 
that  body  a  certain  gentleman  of  faultless  attire,  pleasing  man- 
ners, good  address,  and  some  reputation.  This  gentleman, 
whose  name  need  not  be  mentioned,  had  one  foible — that  is 
to  say,  one  pronounced  and  particular  foible  —  his  hair  was 
very  thin,  and  he  was  very  sensitive  in  regard  to  it.  To  hide 
his  approaching  baldness  he  had  a  habit  of  carefully  stroking, 
with  bandoline  and  other  preparations,  each  particular  hair 
which  was  left  to  him  into  its  place.  One  day,  while  in  the 
chair  as  Speaker,  Mr.  Hamlin,  in  the  innocence  of  a  good  and 
joke-loving  nature,  sent  for  this  gentleman,  and,  looking  fixedly 
at  his  smooth  and  polished  pate,  said,  with  a  chuckle, 

"  Blank,  old  fellow,  I  just  wanted  to  tell  you  that  you've  got 
one  of  your  hairs  crossed  over  the  other." 

"You  insult  me,  sir;  you  insult  me!"  replied  the  member, 
with  unexpected  and  altogether  unnecessary  indignation ;  and 
then,  refusing  to  listen  either  to  reason  or  explanation,  he  left 
the  Speaker's  desk  and  returned  to  his  seat.  When  Mr.  Ham- 
lin became  a  candidate  for  the  United  States  Senate  this  gen- 
tleman was  a  member  of  the  upper  House  of  the  Maine  Legis- 
lature, and  positively  refused,  though  a  member  of  the  same 
party,  to  vote  for  the  man  by  whom  he  believed  he  had  been 
insulted.  So  it  was  that  Hannibal  Hamlin  was  defeated  for  a 
seat  in  the  Senate — by  a  hair !  In  the  end  his  strength  was 
thrown  for  Mr.  Bradbury,  and  that  gentleman  was  elected  to 
succeed  the  distinguished  George  Evans. 

Naturally  enough,  Bradbury  was  most  profuse  in  his  ac- 
knowledgments to  Mr.  Hamlin ;  indeed,  he  went  the  length 
of  writing  to  that  gentleman,  saying  he  should  never  forget 
the  service  which  had  been  done  him,  and  would  be  ready  at 
all  times  to  return  it.  He  did  not  know  how  soon  such  a 
return  would  be  asked  of  him.  Early  in  1848  Governor  Fair- 
field, the  then  senior  United  States  Senator  from  Maine,  died 
— was  killed  by  his  maladroit  physician,  as  many  people  be- 


136  Tvjelve  Americans. 

lieve — but  of  that  no  matter  now.  He  died,  and  it  became 
necessary  for  the  Legislature  to  elect  his  successor.  Mr.  Ham- 
lin, at  the  earnest  solicitation  of  friends  in  all  parts  of  the 
State,  was  a  candidate  for  the  position,  and,  recalling  Senator 
Bradbury's  promises,  wrote  to  him  asking  his  aid.  In  the 
mean  time,  however,  Bradbury  had  discovered  that  Hamlin, 
because  of  his  freely  -  expressed  antislavery  principles,  was  a 
marked  man,  and  obnoxious  to  the  Democratic  leaders  in 
Washington.  For  these  reasons  he  did  not  dare  to  assist  him. 
He  said  as  much  in  a  letter,  in  which  he  at  the  same  time 
explained  his  failure  to  fulfil  his  many  promises  by  saying 
that  he  found  himself  "in  a  delicate  condition."  In  reply  to 
this  letter  Mr.  Hamlin  absolved  Bradbury  from  all  his  pledges, 
and  at  the  same  time  with  bitter  sarcasm  regretted  that  so 
distinguished  a  gentleman  should  be  placed  in  a  condition 
which  had  always,  until  then,  been  regarded  as  peculiar  to 
women.  Fortunately,  Mr.  Hamlin  needed  no  aid  but  his  own 
reputation  to  secure  his  success  before  the  Legislature.  He 
was  triumphantly  elected  to  succeed  Governor  Fairfield. 

It  is  noticeable  that  the  Free-soil  Party  in  the  Maine  Assem- 
bly contributed  largely  to  the  result,  doing  so  because  Mr. 
Hamlin  had,  by  his  antislavery  course,  earned  the  hostility  of 
many  prominent  Democrats  in  his  own  State,  as  elsewhere. 
The  exact  nature  of  this  opposition,  and  the  manner  in  which 
Mr.  Hamlin  was  elected,  after  a  protracted  struggle,  was  re- 
ferred to  by  the  Augusta  Age  (then  the  official  paper  of  the 
Democratic  Party)  in  the  following  terms:  "After  repeated 
attempts  to  effect  an  election  had  been  made  without  success, 
several  members  of  the  Free-soil  Party — believing  that  there 
wras  an  attempt  on  the  part  of  the  Democrats  opposed  to  Mr. 
Hamlin  to  cut  him  down,  in  consequence  of  his  opposition  to 
the  introduction  of  slavery  into  the  Territory  now  free,  al- 
though not  concurring  with  him  in  political  opinions  —  vol- 
untarily gave  him  their  votes,  amounting  to  ten  in  the  House 


He  Served  the  State.  137 

of  Representatives  and  three  in  the  Senate,  which  secured  his 
election.  It  was  certainly  an  act  of  magnanimity  which  can- 
not fail  to  be  appreciated,  and  particularly  as  it  was  a  free-will 
offering  from  men  who  are  in  an  opposing  political  organiza- 
tion to  Mr.  Hamlin  for  his  firm  adherence  to  principles  held 
in  common  by  them  with  the  great  mass  of  people  of  the 
North,  irrespective  of  party  distinctions."  Subsequently,  as  it 
is  almost  unnecessary  to  state,  Mr.  Hamlin  found  no  difficulty 
in  being  returned  to  the  position  to  which  he  was  chosen  as 
described. 

During  his  early  service  in  the  Senate  he  took  the  same 
position  in  regard  to  the  slavery  question  which  had  distin- 
guished him  in  the  lower  House.  Holding  this  position,  and 
advocating  the  principles  of  the  antislavery  party  with  par- 
ticular force,  clearness,  and  energy,  he  gave  great  uneasiness  to 
Democratic  leaders.  An  incident  will  illustrate  the  extent  to 
which  this  was  the  case.  During  the  discussion  of  the  Mis- 
souri Compromise,  Franklin  Pierce  (who  was  then  President, 
through  false  promises  in  regard  to  slavery  questions)  sent  for 
him.  He  met  the  sharp-faced,  quick-spoken  Chief  Magistrate 
in  his  private  office  at  the  White  House.  After  exchanging 
the  somewhat  ceremonious  salutations  of  the  day,  the  President 
said,  significantly, 

"  By-the-way,  Mr.  Hamlin,  what  are  you  going  to  do  in  the 
Senate  with  the  bill  to  repeal  the  Missouri  Compromise?" 

"  I  hardly  know,"  said  the  Maine  Senator,  at  once  on  his 
guard ;  "  but  apparently  there  is  not  a  majority  in  favor  of  it." 

"  Well,  suppose,  now,  that  it  should  become  a  party  meas- 
ure," continued  the  President,  "  what  would  you  do  in  regard 
to  it?" 

"  As  to  that,"  said  Hamlin,  quietly,  "it  is  only  necessary  for 
me  to  say  at  this  time  that  I  do  not  regard  the  measure  as  a 
wise  one." 

"  Still,"  urged   the   President,  "  you    could   not   stand   up 


138  Twelve  Americans. 

against  your  party ;  even  Calhoun  and  White,  of  Tennessee, 
failed  to  do  that," 

"  And  yet,"  said  the  Maine  Senator,  laughing,  in  reply,  "  I 
shall,  if  necessary,  take  the  responsibility  of  standing  up  against 
my  party.  I  have  my  constituents  to  serve,  and  they  shall 
be  served  to  the  best  of  my  ability,  irrespective  of  any  party. 
At  the  same  time  let  us  understand  each  other.  Did  you  ask 
me  to  come  here  expecting  to  get  me  to  aid  you  in  repealing 
the  Compromise?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Mr.  Pierce,  after  a  moment's  consideration, 
"  I  did." 

"Then,  sir,  I  must  say  to  you,"  replied  Mr.  Hamlin,  earnest- 
ly, "  that  during  the  more  than  forty  years  I  have  lived  I  have 
doubtless  made  many  mistakes,  but  I  have  never  lost  self-re- 
spect. I  would  do  so  should  I  vote  for  the  repeal  of  the 
Missouri  Compromise.  It  is  needless  to  say  more,  and  I  shall 
bid  you  good-morning." 

IV. 

LEAVING  THE  DEMOCRATS. 

From  this  position,  as  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  say,  Mr.  Ham- 
lin was  never  moved  ;  still,  up  to  1856,  he  continued  to  act  with 
the  Democratic  Party  upon  all  questions  not  relating  to  slav- 
ery. In  the  year  named,  after  the  Cincinnati  Convention,  he 
believed  that  the  party  which  he  had  served  so  faithfully  had 
deserted  its  chief  landmarks,  and  he  determined  to  act  with 
it  no  longer.  Once  having  made  up  his  mind,  he  was  not 
long  in  carrying  his  resolution  into  effect.  From  the  Demo- 
cratic majority  in  the  Senate  he  had  received  the  important 
position  of  Chairman  of  the  Committee  on  Commerce.  He 
concluded  to  resign  that  position,  and  forever  after  to  end  his 
connection  with  the  organization  which  had  not  lived  up  to 
its  professions.     This  intention  on  his  part  having  been  hinted 


He  Served  the  State.  139 

at,  the  old  Senate  Chamber,  on  the  12th  of  June,  1856,  was 
filled  to  overflowing  by  people  who  believed  that  he  would,  in 
a  set  speech  upon  that  day,  give  his  reasons  for  resigning  his 
chairmanship  and  withdrawing  from  what  had  been  his  party. 
The  audience  was  not  disappointed.  The  Senate  having  come 
to  order,  Mr.  Hamlin  took  the  floor,  and,  amid  the  most  intense 
excitement,  though  remarkable  quiet,  said : 

"  Mr.  President,  I  rise  for  a  purpose  purely  personal — a  purpose  such  as 
I  have  never  before  risen  for  in  the  Senate.  I  desire  to  explain  some  mat- 
ters personal  to  myself  and  to  my  own  future  course  in  public  life." 

"Go  on !  go  on !"  cried  several  Senators  in  a  breath ;  and  Mr. 
Hamlin  continued,  in  a  speech  which  not  only  clearly  defined 
his  own  position,  but  gave,  in  the  shortest  possible  epitome,  a 
history  up  to  that  time  of  the  relations  of  the  Democratic 
Party  toward  the  slavery  question.  For  these  reasons  it  is 
not  only  of  importance  but  of  interest  to  quote  that  speech. 
It  was  as  follows : 

"I  ask  the  Senate  to  excuse  me  from  farther  service  as  Chairman  of 
the  Committee  on  Commerce.  I  do  so  because  I  feel  that  my  relations 
hereafter  shall  be  of  such  a  character  as  to  render  it  proper  that  I  should 
no  longer  hold  that  position.  I  owe  this  act  to  the  dominant  majority  in 
the  Senate.  When  I  cease  to  harmonize  with  the  majority,  or  tests  are 
applied  by  that  party  with  which  I  have  acted  to  which  I  cannot  submit,  I 
feel  that  I  ought  no  longer  to  hold  that  respectable  position.  I  propose 
to  state  briefly  the  reasons  which  have  brought  me  to  that  conclusion. 

"  During  nine  years  of  service  in  the  Senate  I  have  preferred  to  be  a 
working  rather  than  a  talking  member,  and  so  I  have  been  almost  a  silent 
one.  On  the  subjects  which  have  so  much  agitated  the  country  Senators 
know  that  I  have  rarely  uttered  a  word.  I  love  my  country  more  than  I 
love  my  party.  I  love  my  country  above  my  love  for  any  interest  that  can 
too  deeply  agitate  or  disturb  its  harmony.  I  have  seen,  in  all  the  exciting 
scenes  and  debates  through  which  we  have  passed,  no  particular  good  that 
would  result  from  my  active  intermingling  in  them.  My  heart  has  often 
been  full,  and  the  impulses  of  that  heart  have  often  been  felt  upon  my 
lips,  but  I  have  repressed  them  there. 

"  Sir,  I  hold  that  the  repeal  of  the  Missouri  Compromise  was  a  gross 
moral  and  political  wrong,  unequalled  in  the  annals  of  the  legislation  of 
this  country,  and  hardly  equalled  in  the  annals  of  any  other  free  country. 


140  Twelve  Americans. 

Still,  sir,  with  a  desire  to  promote  harmony  and  concord  and  brotherly  feel- 
ing, I  was  a  quiet  man  under  all  the  exciting  debates  which  led  to  that 
fatal  result.  I  believed  it  wrong  then  ;  I  can  see  that  wrong  lying  broad- 
cast all  around  us  now.  As  a  wrong  I  opposed  that  measure — not,  indeed, 
by  my  voice,  but  with  consistent  and  steady,  uniform  votes.  I  so  resisted 
it  in  obedience  to  the  dictates  of  my  own  judgment.  I  did  it,  also,  cheer- 
fully, in  compliance  with  the  instructions  of  the  Legislature  of  Maine, 
which  were  passed  by  a  vote  almost  unanimous.  In  the  House  of  Repre- 
sentatives of  Maine,  consisting  now  of  one  hundred  and  fifty-one  members, 
only  six,  I  think,  dissented ;  and  in  the  Senate,  consisting  of  thirty-one 
members,  only  one  member  non-concurred. 

"  But  the  Missouri  restriction  was  abrogated.  The  portentous  evils  that 
were  predicted  have  followed,  and  are  yet  following,  along  in  its  train.  It 
was  done,  sir,  in  violation  of  the  pledges  of  that  party  with  which  I  have 
always  acted  and  with  which  I  have  always  voted.  It  was  done  in  viola- 
tion of  solemn  pledges  of  the  President  of  the  United  States,  made  in  his 
inaugural  address.  Still,  sir,  I  was  disposed  to  suffer  the  wrong  until  I 
should  see  that  no  evil  results  were  flowing  from  it.  We  were  told  by  al- 
most every  Senator  who  addressed  us  upon  that  occasion  that  no  evil  re- 
sults would  follow,  that  no  practical  difference  in  the  settlement  of  the 
country  and  the  character  of  the  future  State  would  take  place,  whether 
the  act  were  done  or  not.  I  have  waited  calmly  and  patiently  to  see  the 
fulfilment  of  that  prediction;  and  I  am  grieved,  sir,  to  say  now  that  they 
have  at  least  been  mistaken  in  their  predictions  and  promises.  They  all 
have  signally  failed. 

"  That  Senators  might  have  voted  for  that  measure  under  the  belief  then 
expressed  and  the  predictions  to  which  I  have  alluded,  I  can  well  under- 
stand ;  but  how  Senators  can  now  defend  that  measure  amid  all  its  evils, 
which  are  overwhelming  the  land,  if  not  threatening  it  with  a  conflagra- 
tion, is  what  I  do  not  comprehend.  The  whole  of  the  disturbed  state  of 
the  country  has  its  rise  in,  and  is  attributable  to,  that  act  alone — nothing 
else.  It  lies  at  the  foundation  of  all  our  misfortunes  and  commotions. 
There  would  have  been  no  incursions  by  Missouri  borderers  into  Kansas, 
either  to  establish  slavery  or  control  elections.  There  would  have  been  no 
necessity,  either,  for  others  to  have  gone  there  partially  to  aid  in  preserv- 
ing the  country  in  its  then  condition.  All  would  have  been  peace  there. 
Had  it  not  been  done,  that  repose  and  quiet  which  pervaded  the  public 
mind  then  would  hold  it  in  tranquillity  to-day.  Instead  of  startling  events, 
we  should  have  quiet  and  peace  within  our  borders,  and  that  fraternal 
feeling  which  ought  to  animate  the  citizens  of  every  part  of  the  Union 
toward  those  of  all  other  sections. 

"  Sir,  the  events  that  are  taking  place  around  us  are  indeed  startling. 
They  challenge  the  public  mind,  and  appeal  to  the  public  judgment ;  they 
thrill  the  public  nerve  as  electricity  imparts  a  tremulous  motion  to  the 
telegraph-wire.    It  is  a  period  when  all  good  men  should  unite  in  applying 


He  Served  the  State.  141 

the  proper  remedy  to  secure  peace  and  harmony  to  the  country.  Is  this 
to  be  done  by  any  of  us  by  remaining  associated  with  those  who  have  been 
instrumental  in  producing  these  results,  and  who  now  justify  them  ?  I  do 
not  see  my  duty  lying  in  that  direction. 

"I  have,  while  temporarily  acquiescing,  stated  here  and  at  home — every- 
where uniformly — that  when  the  tests  of  those  measures  were  applied  to 
me  as  one  of  party  fidelity,  I  would  sunder  them  as  flax  is  sundered  at  the 
the  touch  of  fire.     I  do  it  now. 

"The  occasion  involves  a  question  of  moral  duty,  and  self-respect  allows 
me  no  other  line  of  duty  but  to  follow  the  dictates  of  my  own  judgment 
and  the  impulses  of  my  own  heart.  A  just  man  may  cheerfully  submit  to 
many  enforced  humiliations,  but  a  self-degraded  man  has  ceased  to  be 
worthy  to  be  deemed  a  man  at  all. 

"  Sir,  what  has  the  recent  Democratic  Convention  at  Cincinnati  done  ? 
It  has  endorsed  the  measure  I  have  condemned,  and  has  sanctioned  its 
destructive  and  ruinous  effects.  It  has  done  more — vastly  more.  That 
principle  or  policy  of  Territorial  sovereignty  which  once  had,  and  which,  I 
suppose,  now  has,  its  advocates  within  these  walls,  is  stricken  down ;  and 
there  is  an  absolute  denial  of  it  in  the  resolution  of  the  convention — if  I 
can  draw  right  conclusions — a  denial  equally  to  Congress,  and  even  to  the 
people  of  the  Territories,  of  the  right  to  settle  the  question  of  slavery  there- 
in. On  the  contrary,  the  convention  has  actually  incorporated  into  the 
platform  of  the  Democratic  Party  that  doctrine  which  only  a  few  years 
ago  met  nothing  but  ridicule  and  contempt,  here  and  elsewhere — namely, 
that  the  flag  of  the  Federal  Union,  under  the  Constitution  of  the  United 
States,  carries  slavery  wherever  it  floats.  If  this  baleful  principle  be  true, 
then  that  national  ode  which  inspires  us  always  as  on  a  battle-field  should 
be  rewritten  by  Drake,  and  should  read  thus : 

"  'Forever  float  that  standard  sheet ! 

Where  breathes  the  foe  but  fulls  before  us, 
"With  slavery's  soil  beneath  our  feet, 
And  slavery's  banner  streaming  o'er  us?' 

"  Now,  sir,  what  is  the  precise  condition  in  which  this  matter  is  left  by 
the  Cincinnati  Convention  ?  I  do  not  design  to  trespass  many  moments 
on  the  Senate,  but  allow  me  to  read  and  offer  a  few  comments  upon  some 
portions  of  the  Democratic  platform.  The  first  resolution  that  treats  upon 
the  subject  is  in  these  words — I  read  just  so  much  of  it  as  is  applicable  to 
my  present  remarks : 

'"That  Congress  has  no  power  under  the  Constitution  to  interfere 
■with  or  control  the  domestic  institutions  of  the  several  States,  and  that 
all  such  States  are  the  sole  and  proper  judges  of  everything  appertaining 
to  their  own  affairs  not  prohibited  by  the  Constitution.' 

"  I  take  it  that  this  language  thus  far  is  language  that  meets  a  willing 
and  ready  response  from  every  Senator  here ;  certainly  it  does  from  me. 
But  in  the  following  resolution  I  find  these  words : 


142  Twelve  Americans. 

" '  Resolved,  That  the  foregoing  proposition  covers,  and  was  intended 
to  embrace,  the  whole  subject  of  slavery  agitation  in  Congress.' 

"  The  first  resolution  which  I  read  was  adopted  years  ago  in  Democratic 
conventions.  The  second  resolution  which  I  read  was  adopted  in  subse- 
quent years,  when  a  different  state  of  things  had  arisen,  and  it  became 
necessary  to  apply  an  abstract  proposition  relating  to  the  States  to  the 
Territories.  Hence  the  adoption  of  the  language  contained  in  the  second 
resolution  which  I  have  read. 

"Now,  sir,  I  deny  the  position  thus  assumed  by  the  Cincinnati  Con- 
vention. In  the  language  of  the  Senator  from  Kentucky  (Mr.  Crittenden), 
so  ably  and  so  appropriately  used  on  Tuesday  last,  I  hold  that  the  entire 
and  unqualified  sovereignty  of  the  Territories  is  in  Congress.  That  is  my 
judgment,  but  this  resolution  brings  the  Territories  precisely  within  the 
same  limitations  which  are  applied  to  the  States  in  the  resolution  which 
I  first  read.  The  two  taken  together  deny  to  Congress  any  power  of 
legislation  in  ther  Teritories.  Follow  on  and  let  us  see  what  remains. 
Adopted  as  a  part  of  the  present  platform,  and  as  necessary  to  a  new 
state  of  things,  and  to  meet  an  emergency  now  existing,  the  convention 
says : 

"  '  The  American  Democracy  recognize  and  adopt  the  principles  con- 
tained in  the  organic  laws  establishing  the  Territories  of  Kansas  and 
Nebraska,  as  embodying  the  only  sound  and  safe  solution  of  the  slavery 
question  upon  which  the  great  national  idea  of  the  people  of  this  whole 
country  can  repose  in  its  determined  conservatism  of  the  Union — non- 
interference by  Congress  with  slavery  in  States  and  Territories.' 

"  Then  follows  the  last  resolution : 

"  'Resolved,  That  we  recognize  the  right  of  the  people  of  all  the  Ter- 
ritories, including  Kansas  and  Nebraska — acting  through  the  fairly  ex- 
pressed will  of  the  majority  of  actual  residents,  and  whenever  the  num- 
ber of  their  inhabitants  justifies  it — to  form  a  Constitution,  with  or  with- 
out domestic  slavery,  and  be  admitted  into  the  Union  upon  terms  of 
perfect  equality  with  the  other  States.' 

"  Take  all  these  resolutions  together,  and  the  deduction  which  we  must 
necessarily  draw  from  them  is  a  denial  to  Congress  of  any  power  what- 
ever to  legislate  upon  the  subject  of  slavery.  The  last  resolution  denies 
to  the  people  of  the  Territory  any  power  over  that  subject,  save  when 
they  shall  have  a  sufficient  number  to  form  a  Constitution  and  become  a 
State,  and  also  denies  that  Congress  has  any  power  over  the  subject.  And 
so  the  resolutions  hold  that  this  power  is  at  least  in  abeyance  while  the 
Territory  is  in  a  Territorial  condition ;  that  is  the  only  conclusion  which 
you  can  draw  from  these  resolutions.  Alas  for  short-lived  Territorial  sov- 
ereignty !  it  came  to  its  death  in  the  house  of  its  friends ;  it  was  buried 
by  the  same  hand  which  had  given  it  baptism.  But,  sir,  I  did  not  rise  for 
the  purpose  of  discussing  these  resolutions,  but  only  to  read  them,  and  state 
the  action  which  I  propose  to  take  in  view  of  them.  My  object  now  is,  to 
show  only  that  the  Cincinnati  Convention  has  indorsed  and  approved  of 


He  Served  the  State.  143 

the  repeal  of  the  Missouri  Compromise,  from  which  so  many  evils  have 
already  flowed,  from  which  more  and  worse  evils  must  yet  be  anticipated. 
It  would,  of  course,  be  expected  that  the  Presidential  nominee  of  that 
convention  would  accept  cordially  and  cheerfully  the  platform  prepared 
for  him  by  his  party  friends.  No  person  can  object  to  that ;  there  is  no 
equivocation  on  his  part  about  the  matter.  I  beg  leave  to  read  a  short 
extract  from  a  speech  of  that  gentleman  made  at  his  own  home  within 
the  last  few  days.  In  reply  to  the  Keystone  Club,  which  paid  him  a  visit 
there,  Mr.  Buchanan  said : 

"  '  Gentlemen,  two  weeks  since  I  should  have  made  you  a  longer  speech, 
but  now  I  have  been  placed  on  a  platform  of  which  I  most  heartily  ap- 
prove, and  that  can  speak  for  me.  Being  the  representative  of  the  great 
Democratic  Party,  and  not  simply  James  Buchanan,  I  must  square  my 
conduct  according  to  the  platform  of  the  party,  and  insert  no  new  plank 
nor  take  one  from  it.'  " 

Having  read  this  extract  from  the  speech  of  the  man  who 
was  to  be  the  last  Democratic  President  of  the  United  States, 
Mr.  Hamlin,  amid  the  utmost  silence  in  the  crowded  Senate 
Chamber,  concluded  his  memorable  speech  as  follows : 

"  These  events  leave  to  me  only  one  unpleasant  duty,  which  is  to  de- 
clare here  that  I  can  maintain  political  associations  with  no  party  that  in- 
sists upon  such  doctrines ;  that  I  can  support  no  man  for  President  who 
avows  and  recognizes  them ;  and  that  the  little  of  that  power  with  which 
God  has  endowed  me  shall  be  employed  to  battle  manfully,  firmly,  and 
consistently  for  his  defeat,  demanded  as  it  is  by  the  highest  interests  of 
the  country  which  owns  all  my  allegiance." 

As  may  well  be  imagined,  the  delivery  of  this  speech  cre- 
ated the  most  intense  excitement  in  the  Senate — an  excitement 
which  afterward  to  an  extent,  at  least,  spread  over  the  country. 
From  that  time  forward,  as  it  is  almost  unnecessary  to  state, 
Mr.  Hamlin  continued  to  act  with  what  was  then  the  small  and 
insignificant  Republican  Party. 

Shortly  after  his  withdrawal  from  the  Democracy  the  Sen- 
ator was  nominated  by  the  Republicans  to  be  Governor  of 
Maine.  This  honor  was  not  only  conferred  upon  him  un- 
asked, but  decidedly  against  his  will.  Indeed,  at  different 
places  and  times,  before  the  State  meeting,  he  had  received 
promises  from  many  influential  friends  and  neighbors  that  the 


144  Twelve  Americans. 

responsibility  of  making  the  State  canvass  would  not  be  im- 
posed upon  him.  When  the  Maine  Convention  came  togeth- 
er, however,  it  was  found  impossible  to  prevent  his  nomina- 
tion. How  overwhelming  was  the  sentiment  of  the  party  in 
his  favor  may  be  judged  from  the  fact  that  of  the  eleven  hun- 
dred delegates  all  but  forty  declared  him  to  be  their  first  choice. 
Subsequently,  in  accepting  the  nomination,  Mr.  Hamlin  said, 
jokingly,  that  these  forty  gentlemen  were  the  only  real  friends 
he  had  in  the  convention.  He  entered  upon  the  campaign 
with  apparently  but  little  chance  of  success.  In  the  previous 
election  the  State  had  gone  Democratic  by  a  majority  of  sev- 
eral thousand ;  and  his  defeat,  with  the  complete  annihilation 
of  the  new  Republican  Party,  was  freely  predicted  by  many 
shrewd  politicians.  Despite  these  and  other  discouraging  cir- 
cumstances, however,  with  all  the  energy  and  force  character- 
istic of  him,  he  entered  upon  a  vigorous  personal  canvass. 
From  Portland  to  the  extreme  eastern  point  of  the  State  he 
spoke  literally  at  every  hamlet  and  cross-road,  attracting  great 
crowds  wherever  he  went.  Even  at  the  far  distant  settlement 
of  Presque  Isle,  on  the  borders  of  civilization,  hundreds  of 
hardy  frontiersmen  flocked  to  hear  what  he  had  to  say  upon 
the  slavery  and  other  great  questions  then  agitating  the  coun- 
try. At  this  place,  by -the -way,  there  occurred  an  incident 
which  Mr.  Hamlin  still  recalls  with  pleasure. 

Upon  the  evening  of  his  visit  there  it  was  arranged  that  he 
should  speak  in  the  commodious,  old-fashioned  school-house ; 
and,  after  a  custom  of  the  times,  the  windows  were  removed 
from  the  building,  so  that  the  speaker  might  be  heard  by  the 
crowds  inside  and  out.  As  he  was  about  to  begin  his  address 
he  was  struck  by  the  familiar  appearance  of  the  gentleman  who 
acted  as  presiding  officer.  Then  suddenly  it  occurred  to  him 
that  the  person  in  question  was  none  other  than  the  eccentric 
Mr.  Ellis,  with  whom,  when  a  boy,  he  had  made  a  survey  of  his 
father's  forest-land.     This  proved  to  be  the  case,  and  Mr.  Ham- 


He  Served  the  State.  145 

lin  happily  commenced  his  speech  by  saying :  "  Mr.  Chairman, 
many  years  ago,  when  little  more  than  a  child,  I  followed  the 
line  of  your  compass  through  the  unbroken  wilderness  of  our 
State,  and  that  line  brought  us  to  the  correct  and  desired  end. 
Now,  sir,  I  ask  that  you  shall  follow  ray  compass  through  the 
political  wilderness  by  which  we  are  surrounded,  and  the  end 
shall  be  the  open  country  of  triumphant  success."  This  proph- 
ecy, greatly  to  the  surprise  of  the  wiseacres  who  had  predicted 
Mr.  Hamlin's  humiliation,  was  mt>st  abundantly  fulfilled.  To 
the  consternation  of  his  enemies,  and  greatly  to  the  surprise  of 
even  his  most  sanguine  followers,  he  was  elected  by  a  majority 
of  18,000  votes  over  his  two  competitors,  and  of  23,000  votes 
over  the  candidate  of  the  Democracy.  This  majority  was  more 
than  double  that  ever  before  given  to  any  candidate  for  the 
Governorship  of  Maine.  The  election,  being  held  in  Septem- 
ber, was  popularly  regarded  as  the  opening  gun  of  the  great 
antislavery  conflict  which  was  to  come.  Its  immediate  result 
was  to  greatly  strengthen  and  encourage  the  supporters  of  Fre- 
mont in  the  national  struggle  which  followed  in  November. 
Mr.  Hamlin  was  duly  inaugurated  as  Governor  of  his  native 
State,  but  served  for  only  a  few  days,  when  he  was  for  the 
third  time  elected  a  Senator  of  the  United  States.  Shortly 
afterward  he  resigned  the  Governorship  and  returned  to  his 
seat  in  Congress.  In  this  position  he  continued  to  battle  man- 
fully for  the  antislavery  cause,  his  speeches  on  the  Lecompton 
Constitution,  the  Kansas  question,  and  his  manful  reply  to  the 
"  mudsill "  tirade  of  Governor  Hammond,  of  South  Carolina, 
attracting  wide  attention  and  applause. 

7 


146  Twelve  Americans. 


"LINCOLN  AND  HAMLIN." 

But,  prominent  as  was  Mr.  Hamlin's  figure  in  the  Senate,  he 
was  destined  to  occupy  a  still  more  prominent  position  before 
the  country.  In  the  midst  of  a  political  excitement  which 
had  hardly  ever  before  been  equalled  in  the  United  States,  the 
National  Republican  Convention  to  nominate  a  President  and 
Vice-President  met  in  Chicago,  on  the  16th  of  May,  1860. 
At  that  time  the  remarkable  quadrennial  meeting  of  the  De- 
mocracy had  been  held  at  Charleston,  and,  after  a  session  of 
nearly  two  weeks,  had  adjourned,  without  either  framing  a 
platform  or  choosing  candidates.  It  was  there  only  demon- 
strated that  Douglass  could  not  be  nominated  by  a  united  De- 
mocracy, and,  as  an  outcome  of  the  Constitutional  Union  Con- 
vention at  Baltimore,  it  was  seen  that  the  contest  to  come  was 
to  be  phenomenal  in  character.  Under  these  conditions,  it 
was  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  the  masses  of  the  people  look- 
ed with  much  anxiety  to  Chicago,  believing  that  there  the 
question  of  the  Presidency  was  to  be  definitely  settled.  The 
great  convention  came  together  in  the  best  of  feeling,  and  its 
first  day  was  spent  harmoniously  in  perfecting  the  preliminary 
organization.  On  the  second  day  the  Committee  on  Resolu- 
tions submitted  a  platform  which  was  unanimously  adopted, 
and  has  ever  since  stood  as  expounding  the  cardinal  principles 
of  the  party  of  libedy.  On  the  morning  of  the  18th  inst. 
thousands  of  people  thronged  the  wigwam  in  which  the  con- 
vention was  held,  and,  amid  a  silence  which  was  almost  painful 
— a  silence  shared  not  only  by  those  within,  but  by  the  great 
multitude  without — it  was  moved  to  go  into  ballot  for  a  can- 
didate for  the  Presidency  of  the  Union.  Then,  with  appro- 
priate addresses,  the  following  seven  names  were  presented  in 
the  order  given  :  William  H.  Seward,  of  New  York  ;  Abraham 


He  Served  the  State.  147 

Lincoln,  of  Illinois ;  William  L.  Dayton,  of  New  Jersey ;  Si- 
mon Cameron,  of  Pennsylvania;  Salmon  P.  Chase,  of  Ohio; 
Edward  Bates,  of  Missouri ;  John  McLean,  of  Ohio. 

It  was  at  once  understood  that  the  five  last-named  gentle- 
men were  to  receive  little  better  than  complimentary  votes, 
and  that  the  real  contest  would  be  between  Seward  and  Lin- 
coln. On  the  first  ballot  the  New  York  candidate  received 
173  votes;  Mr.  Lincoln,  102;  Mr.  Cameron,  50;  Mr.  Chase, 
49  ;  Mr.  Bates,  48  ;  Mr.  Dayton,  14  ;  Mr.  McLean,  12.  In  addi- 
tion to  these,  there  were  16  scattering  votes  cast  for  candidates 
not  formally  put  in  nomination.  Two  hundred  and  thirty-three 
votes  were  necessary  to  a  choice.  After  the  first  ballot  the 
veteran  Simon  Cameron,  who  to  a  large  extent  had  charge  of 
Mr.  Lincoln's  canvass,  caused  his  own  name  to  be  withdrawn ; 
and  on  the  second  ballot  the  vote  stood  as  follows :  Seward, 
184  ;  Lincoln,  181 ;  Chase,  42  ;  Bates,  35  ;  Dayton,  10  ;  McLean, 
8 ;  scattering,  4. 

The  third  roll-call  was  commenced  amid  the  most  intense 
though  suppressed  excitement,  and  at  its  close  the  clerk  an- 
nounced the  result  to  be  :  For  Mr.  Lincoln,  231 ;  for  Mr.  Sew- 
ard, 180  ;  for  Mr.  Chase,  24  ;  for  Mr.  Bates,  22  ;  scattering,  1. 
While  this  result  was  being  announced,  however,  four  of  the 
Ohio  delegates  changed  their  votes  to  Lincoln,  thus  giving  him 
a  majority ;  and,  amid  the  most  enthusiastic  shouts  of  ap- 
plause, Abraham  Lincoln  was  declared  to  be  the  nominee  of 
the  convention  for  President  of  the  United  States. 

This  much  having  been  accomplished,  the  selection  of  a 
Vice-President  was  moved  in  order ;  and  it  was  at  once  seen 
by  shrewd  political  minds  in  the  convention  that  the  selection 
of  Lincoln,  with  Whig  antecedents,  from  the  West,  should,  to 
make  a  strong  ticket,  be  united  with  the  choice  of  some  East- 
ern man,  a  Republican,  but  whose  affiliations  had  been  with 
the  Democracy.  These  considerations  naturally  pointed  to 
Hannibal  Hamlin  as  the  candidate  for  the  second  place  on 


148  Twelve  Americans. 

the  ticket.  lie  was  strongly  urged  for  this  position  by  his 
old  associates  in  Congress  —  men  like  Preston  King,  David 
Wilmot,  George  Rathbun,  and  others  who  knew  him  best 
and  respected  him  most.  Simon  Cameron,  too,  was  one  of 
his  staunchest  adherents,  and  threw  the  entire  Pennsylvania 
delegation  in  his  interest.  So  it  came  about  that  Mr.  Hamlin 
was  nominated,  amid  unbounded  enthusiasm,  on  the  second 
ballot.  This  action  was  taken  despite  his  well-known  disin- 
clination to  give  up  his  Senatorial  seat  for  the  more  distin- 
guished, though  less  influential,  one  of  Vice-President,  Indeed, 
having,  before  the  convention,  heard  some  rumors  of  the  pur- 
pose to  make  him  the  candidate  for  the  second  place,  he  had 
obtained  pledges  from  the  Maine  delegates  to  Chicago  to  the 
effect  that  they  would  authoritatively  announce  his  disinclina- 
tion to  be  a  candidate.  This  agreement  the  Maine  delegates 
failed  to  carry  out,  their  excuse  being  that  the  nomination  of 
Mr.  Hamlin  was  inevitable,  and  that  no  effort  of  theirs  could 
prevent  it.  Hearing  of  what  had  been  done,  the  Senator  was 
naturally  somewhat  indignant  at  what  he  regarded  as  a  breach 
of  faith  on  the  part  of  his  trusted  friends,  and  for  a  time  he 
avowed  a  positive  intention  to  decline  to  be  a  candidate  for 
the  Vice-Presidency.  From  this  determination  he  was  only 
moved  by  the  representations  of  Senators  Foote,  Wade,  Fes- 
senden,  and  others  of  his  associates.  They,  in  a  body,  visited 
him,  and,  through  Mr.  Wade  and  other  spokesmen,  assured  him 
that  his  refusal  to  be  a  candidate  with  Mr.  Lincoln  would  be 
taken  as  indicative  of  a  lack  of  confidence  in  the  success  of 
the  Republican  Party,  and  might  be  fatal  to  the  Chicago 
ticket. 

"  In  fact,"  said  Mr.  Wade,  "  they'll  think  you  are  afraid  to 
run,  and  your  fear  will  be  taken  as  auguring  our  defeat." 

"  Oh,  you  can't  mean  that !"  Mr.  Hamlin  replied,  with  un- 
usual excitement. 

"  I  do  just  mean  that,"  replied  Wade. 


He  Served  the  State.  149 

"  What !  that  they  might  think  I  was  afraid  to  run  on  the 
Republican  ticket  ?" 

"  Yes,  Hamlin,  just  that !" 

"Well,  then,  I  shall  now,  and  be  damned  to  them  !"  was  the 
sturdy  reply  of  the  Maine  Senator.  Afterward,  on  being  offi- 
cially notified  of  his  nomination,  he  rapidly  penned  and  trans- 
mitted the  following  characteristic  letter  of  acceptance : 

"Washington,  May  30,  1860. 

"  Gentlemen, — Your  official  communication  of  the  18th  inst.,  inform- 
ing me  that  the  representatives  of  the  Republican  Party  of  the  United 
States,  assembled  at  Chicago  on  that  day,  had,  by  unanimous  vote,  selected 
me  as  their  candidate  for  the  office  of  Vice-President  of  the  United  States, 
has  been  received,  together  with  the  resolutions  adopted  by  the  conven- 
tion as  its  declaration  of  principles.  These  resolutions  enunciate  clearly 
and  forcibly  the  principles  which  unite  us,  and  the  objects  proposed  to 
be  accomplished.  They  address  themselves  to  all,  and  there  is  neither 
necessity  nor  propriety  in  my  entering  upon  a  discussion  of  any  of  them. 
They  have  the  approval  of  my  judgment,  and  in  any  action  of  mine  will 
be  faithfully  and  cordially  sustained.  I  am  profoundly  grateful  to  those 
with  whom  it  is  my  pride  and  pleasure  politically  to  co-operate  for  the 
nomination  so  unexpectedly  conferred,  and  I  desire  to  tender  through  you 
to  the  members  of  the  convention  my  sincere  thanks  for  the  confidence 
thus  reposed  in  me.  Should  the  nomination  which  I  now  accept  be  rati- 
fied by  the  people,  and  the  duties  devolve  on  me  of  presiding  over  the 
Senate  of  the  United  States,  it  will  be  my  earnest  endeavor  faithfully  to 
discharge  them,  with  a  just  regard  for  the  rights  of  all.  It  is  to  be 
observed,  in  connection  with  the  doings  of  the  Republican  Convention, 
that  the  paramount  object  with  us  is  to  preserve  the  normal  condition  of 
our  Territorial  domains  as  homes  for  freemen.  The  able  advocate  and 
defender  of  Republican  principles  whom  you  have  named  for  the  highest 
place  that  can  gratify  the  ambition  of  man  comes  from  a  State  which  has 
been  made  what  it  is  by  the  special  action  in  that  respect  of  the  wise  and 
good  men  who  founded  our  institutions.  The  rights  of  free  labor  have 
been  there  vindicated  and  maintained. .  The  thrift  and  enterprise  which 
so  distinguished  Illinois,  one  of  the  most  flourishing  States  of  the  glorious 
West,  we  would  see  secured  to  all  the  Territories  of  the  Union,  and  restore 
peace  and  harmony  to  the  whole  country,  by  bringing  back  the  Govern- 
ment to  what  it  was  under  the  wise  and  patriotic  men  who  created  it. 
If  the  Republicans  shall  succeed  in  that  object,  as  they  hope  to,  they  will 
be  held  in  grateful  remembrance  by  the  busy  and  teeming  millions  of 
future  ages.  I  am,  very  truly,  yours,  II.  Hamlin. 

"To  the  Hon.  George  Ashman, 

"  President  of  the  Convention,  and  others  of  the  Committee." 


1 50  Twelve  Americans. 

Of  the  campaign  which  followed  the  nomination  of  Lincoln 
and  Hamlin,  and  the  exciting  discussions  which  grew  out  of 
the  nomination,  and  ultimately  resulted  in  the  great  civil  war, 
it  is  not  necessary  to  speak  in  this  place.  It  may,  however,  be 
said,  in  contradiction  of  recent  statements,  that  the  campaign — 
so  far  as  Abraham  Lincoln,  Hannibal  Hamlin,  and  their  imme- 
diate friends  and  supporters  were  concerned — was  fought  en- 
tirely on  the  principle  of  the  non-extension,  not  the  abrogation, 
of  the  institution  of  slavery.  Mr.  Hamlin,  at  least,  had  never, 
up  to  this  time,  been  one  of  those  who  wished  to  precipitate  a 
conflict  by  interfering  with  what  might  be  called  the  establish- 
ed rights  of  the  South.  Still,  he  was  most  steadfast  in  his  de- 
mand that  no  free  Territory  should  be  invaded  by  slavery  ;  and 
all  his  sympathies,  if  not  his  public  utterances,  were  in  favor  of 
abolishing  the  institution  entirely.  He  differed  with  Garrison 
and  others,  however,  as  to  the  methods  by  which  such  abolition 
should  be  secured.  He  did  not  believe  that  the  time  had  yet 
ripened  for  emancipation.  When  that  time  did  come  he  was 
one  of  the  first  to  recognize  it ;  and,  as  will  be  fully  detailed  in 
the  proper  place,  he  became  a  most  urgent,  earnest,  and  per- 
sistent advocate  of  the  proclamation  of  universal  liberty. 

Shortly  after  the  election  which  made  Lincoln  and  Hamlin 
the  successful  standard-bearers  of  the  party  which  was  to  place 
the  American  Republic  at  the  head  of  nations,  the  Vice-Presi- 
dent elect  received  from  Mr.  Liucoln  an  invitation  to  meet  him 
at  Chicago.  In  response  to  this  invitation  he  went  West,  and 
there  established  relations  with  the  coming  Chief  Magistrate 
which  ever  afterward  made  them  friends  in  the  fullest  sense 
of  the  term.  His  first  meeting  with  Lincoln  in  Chicago  was 
a  peculiar  one.  In  the  hotel  of  the  latter  Mr.  Hamlin  visited 
him.  L'pon  entering  the  room  in  which  he  was,  Mr.  Lincoln, 
who  was  alone,  rose  slowly  to  receive  his  guest.  Even  then 
his  face  had  begun  to  assume  that  earnest  expression  which 
afterward  developed  into  one  of  care-worn  and  harassed  anx- 


He  Served  the  State.  1 5 1 

iety.  Walking  toward  Mr.  Hamlin,  he  said,  abruptly,  yet  in 
his  own  kindly  tone, 

"  Have  we  ever  been  introduced  to  each  other,  Mr.  Hamlin  ?" 

"  No,  sir,  I  think  not,"  replied  the  latter. 

"  That  also  is  my  impression,"  said  Lincoln ;  "  but  I  re- 
member distinctly  while  I  was  in  Congress  to  have  heard  you 
make  a  speech  in  the  Senate.  I  was  very  much  struck  with 
that  speech,  Senator — particularly  struck  with  it — and  for  the 
reason  that  it  was  filled  '  chock-up '  with  the  very  best  kind  of 
antislavery  doctrine." 

"  Well,  now,"  replied  Hamlin,  laughing,  "  that  is  very  singu- 
lar; for  my  one  and  first  recollection  of  yourself  is  of  having 
heard  you  make  a  speech  in  the  House — a  speech  that  was  so 
full  of  good -humor  and  sharp  points,  that  I,  together  with 
other  of  your  auditors,  was  convulsed  with  laughter." 

Relations  between  the  two  gentlemen  having  been  established 
in  this  cordial  fashion,  Mr.  Lincoln  locked  the  door  of  the 
room  in  which  they  were,  and  for  several  hours  they  consulted 
together  as  to  the  conduct  of  the  first  Republican  Administra- 
tion. During  that  interview  Mr.  Lincoln  was  particular  to  say 
to  Hamlin  that  he  expected,  and  would  be  always  willing  to 
accept  in  the  very  best  spirit,  any  advice  which  the  Vice-Presi- 
dent might  have  to  offer — -thus  departing,  by-the-way,  from 
the  precedents  already  established  between  the  first  and  the 
so-called  second  officer  of  the  nation.  At  the  same  time  Mr. 
Lincoln  was  careful  to  advise  with  his  associate  as  to  his  selec- 
tion of  a  Secretary  of  State.  Various  candidates  for  that  po- 
sition were  discussed  at  length,  and,  though  Mr.  Hamlin  had 
no  reason  to  be  particularly  friendly  to  Seward,  he  strongly 
urged  that  the  great  New  York  Senator  be  chosen  for  the  place. 
This  view  Mr.  Lincoln  was  also  inclined  to,  but  nothing  definite 
in  regard  to  the  matter  was  settled.  It  was  fixed,  however, 
that  Mr.  Hamlin  should  have  the  selection  of  the  Eastern  mem- 
ber of  the  Cabinet.     After  this  interview  the  Vice-President 


152  Twelve  Americans. 

elect  returned  to  Washington,  and,  during  the  weeks  which 
intervened  until  the  inauguration,  was  in  almost  daily  commu- 
nication with  Mr.  Lincoln  regarding  the  make-up  of  his  Cabi- 
net and  the  conduct  of  his  Administration. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  there  was  at  the  time  much  dis- 
cussion in  the  public  prints  and  among  public  men  in  regard 
to  whether  or  not  Seward  was  to  receive  the  portfolio  of  the 
Premier.  Upon  that  subject  it  is  now  possible  to  throw  a  good 
deal  of  new  light.  At  first  Seward  was  known  to  be  a  strong- 
ly-endorsed applicant  for  the  position.  Mr.  Thurlow  Weed 
(then  a  power  in  the  councils  of  the  party)  urged  him  upon 
the  President  elect,  and  many  other  influential  men  went  out 
of  their  way  to  try  to  draw  from  Mr.  Lincoln  assurances  that 
he  would  be  appointed.  To  none  of  these  gentlemen,  however, 
did  the  shrewd  Western  statesman  make  any  pledge.  His 
failure  to  do  so  led  them  to  believe  that  he  did  not  intend  to 
make  Mr.  Seward  his  chief  adviser.  Coming  to  this  conclusion, 
the  New  York  Senator,  with  just  a  little  too  much  haste  for  so 
astute  a  politician,  decidedly  changed  his  tune,  and  caused  it  to 
be  given  out  by  his  friends  that  he  could  not  under  any  cir- 
cumstances be  induced  to  leave  the  Senate.  This  statement  he 
followed  up  by  a  personal  declaration  that  he  was  not  a  candi- 
date for  the  Secretaryship  of  State,  and  would  not  accept  the 
position. 

Mr.  Hamlin,  being  at  this  time,  perhaps,  more  fully  informed 
regarding  the  purposes  of  the  incoming  Administration  than 
was  any  other  man,  took  no  little  innocent  satisfaction  and 
amusement  in  watching  the  straits  to  which  the  politicians  were 
being  put  by  lack  of  information  regarding  Mr.  Lincoln's  in- 
tentions. Believing  all  the  time  that  Mr.  Seward  was  most 
anxious  for  the  Premiership,  and  being  at  the  same  time  fully 
aware  that  Lincoln  was  almost  certain  to  offer  the  place  to 
him,  he  one  day  in  the  Senate  Chamber  approached  the  New 
York  Senator  and  said, 


He  Served  the  State.  153 

"Well,  Mr.  Seward,  is  there  anything  new  in  regard  to  the 
Secretaryship  of  State  ?" 

"  No,  Mr.  Hamlin,  no,"  replied  Seward ;  "  nothing  new,  as 
far  as  I  am  concerned.  I  still  adhere  to  my  decision  not  to 
think  of  accepting  the  position." 

"That's  to  be  regretted — that's  to  be  regretted,"  rejoined 
Hamlin. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  that,"  said  the  other,  with  a  laugh ;  and 
then,  with  a  sly  look  at  his  companion,  he  added,  "  Even  if  I 
wanted  the  place,  I  don't  know  that  I  could  get  it." 

"  Well,  as  to  that,"  said  the  Vice-President  to  be,  "  I  think 
Mr.  Lincoln  sees — or  can,  at  least,  be  made  to  see — the  pro- 
priety of  such  a  step.  Let  me  join  with  your  other  friends  in 
the  endeavor  to  show  it  to  him." 

"No,  no,"  quickly  rejoined  Seward — "no,  no;  it's  of  no 
use,  Mr.  Hamlin  ;"  and  so  the  subject  was  dropped. 

Subsequently  it  was  renewed  two  or  three  times,  with  the 
same  result.  About  a  week  before  the  inauguration,  however, 
Hamlin  received  from  Lincoln  a  letter  enclosing  to  Seward  a 
note  offering  him  the  Secretaryship  of  State.  The  letter  to 
Hamlin  explained  this  purpose  on  the  part  of  the  President 
elect,  and  advised  him,  after  consultation  with  Judge  Trumbull, 
of  Illinois,  to  present  the  enclosure  to  Senator  Seward.  Bear- 
ing this  document,  and  by  the  advice  of  Trumbull,  Mr.  Hamlin 
again  approached  Seward.  A  private  meeting  was  arranged 
between  them,  and  once  more  the  Vice-President  elect  asked  if 
the  gentleman  from  New  York  had  changed  his  mind  in  regard 
to  the  Secretaryship  of  State. 

"  No,  no,"  was  again  Mr.  Seward's  reply.  "  If  that  is  what 
you  have  come  to  talk  to  me  about,  Hamlin,  we  might  as  well 
stop  here.  I  don't  want  the  place,  and  if  I  did  I  have  reason 
to  know  that  I  could  not  get  it ;  therefore  let  us  have  no  more 
talk  about  it." 

"Very   well,"  replied    Hamlin,  "I   will    say   nothing   more 

7* 


1 54  Twelve  Americans. 

about  it ;  but  before  you  express  yourself  to  others  as  plainly 
as  you  have  done  to  me  let  me  present  you  with  this  letter 
from  Mr.  Lincoln." 

So  saying,  he  handed  Mr.  Seward  Lincoln's  letter  offering 
that  gentleman  the  post  of  Secretary  of  State  in  the  future 
Cabinet.  Pale  with  excitement,  Mr.  Seward  opened  and  read 
the  communication.  Then,  turning  to  Hamlin,  and  grasping 
his  hand,  he  said,  simply, 

"  This  is  remarkable,  Mr.  Hamlin.  I  will  consider  the  mat- 
ter, and,  in  accordance  with  Mr.  Lincoln's  request,  give  him  my 
decision  at  the  earliest  practicable  moment." 

Within  three  days  afterward  the  Senator  from  New  York 
had  accepted  the  position  of  Secretary  of  State  in  Abraham 
Lincoln's  Cabinet. 

VI. 

THE   DAYS  OF   WAR.— IMPORTANT   HISTORICAL   INCIDENTS. 

As  is  well  illustrated  by  these,  and  similar  incidents — which, 
if  necessary,  might  be  recalled — Hannibal  Hamlin  from  the  first 
enjoyed  not  only  the  esteem  and  respect  but  the  closest  confi- 
dence of  Abraham  Lincoln.  Indeed,  it  is  a  fact  which  may  be 
stated  in  passing  that  Mr.  Hamlin  never  asked  the  great  Presi- 
dent to  perform  any  act  which  he  did  not  perform.  Once  only 
during  all  their  intercourse  was  he  forgetful  of  a  promise  which 
he  had  made  to  his  friend  and  associate.  Inadvertently,  when 
they  met  at  this  time,  Mr.  Hamlin  by  his  manner  indicated  his 
displeasure  at  this  forgetfulness.  Noticing  this,  and  suddenly 
recalling  his  unfulfilled  promise,  Mr.  Lincoln  —  it  was  in  a 
crowded  room — went  up  to  the  Vice-President  and  said,  with 
that  kind  smile  which  those  who  were  his  intimate  associates 
always  delight  to  recall, 

"Are  you  cross  with  me  for  forgetting?  I  am  afraid  you 
are,  and  I  am  very  sorry.     There  was  no  excuse  for  me.     But 


lie  Served  the  State.  155 

don't  be  annoyed,  and  I  will  do  just  as  I  said  I  would."  It  is 
needless  to  add  that  the  promise  was  fulfilled. 

As  to  the  manner  in  which  Lincoln  and  Hamlin  entered  the 
capital  to  be  inaugurated  President  and  Vice-President  of  the 
United  States  there  have  been  many  conflicting  statements. 
The  following  facts,  which  throw  much  additional  light  upon 
the  subject,  may  now  be  made  public. 

A  few  days  before  the  inauguration  Mr.  Hamlin  met  the  Presi- 
dent elect  at  the  Astor  House,  in  New  York.  There  was  great 
though  suppressed  excitement  in  the  metropolis  and  throughout 
the  country,  and  threats  had  been  freely  made  by  Southern 
fire-eaters  and  radical  Democrats  that  neither  Lincoln,  Hamlin, 

"nor  any  other Abolitionist"  should  ever  be  permitted  to 

occupy  the  White  House.  While  the  President  and  Vice-Presi- 
dent elect  were  at  the  Astor  House,  in  New  York,  as  stated, 
wild  rumors  of  this  sort,  which  had  been  flying  about  for  weeks, 
seemed  to  take  tangible  shape ;  at  least,  it  is  a  fact  that,  daring 
their  short  stay  in  the  city,  one  of  the  highest  of  the  police 
authorities  brought  to  them  detailed  and  circumstantial  infor- 
mation of  a  plot  which  had  been  entered  into  to  assassinate  Mr. 
Lincoln.  Neither  of  the  gentlemen  were  seriously  alarmed  by 
this  statement ;  still,  it  was  determined  that  no  risks  should  be 
run.  In  furtherance  of  their  decision  it  was  authoritatively 
stated,  and  reported  in  the  newspapers,  that  the  President  and 
Vice-President  elect  would  travel  together  on  a  certain  train 
from  New  York  directly  to  Washington.  Instead  of  doing 
this,  however,  Mr.  Hamlin  went  to  Washington  alone,  on  a  train 
other  than  the  one  which  had  been  designated  in  the  news- 
paper reports.  He  journeyed  safely  and  without  disturbance 
in  an  ordinary  sleeping-car  until  he  reached  Baltimore.  There, 
though  the  hour  was  very  early  in  the  morning,  he  found  that 
there  were  scores  of  people  in  the  depot;  and  many  rough- 
looking  characters,  with  oaths  and  threats,  boarded  the  train, 
with  the  out-spoken  intention  of  taking  a  look  at  the  "  nigger- 


156  Twelve  Americans. 

lover,  Abe  Lincoln."  Finding  that  Mr.  Lincoln  was  not  on  the 
train,  however,  and  not  recognizing  Mr.  Hamlin,  who  was  lying 
quietly  in  his  berth,  they  made  no  farther  demonstration;  and 
the  train  went  on,  reaching  "Washington  in  due  time.  Mr. 
Lincoln,  it  may  be  well  to  add,  proceeded  from  New  York  to 
Ilarrisburg,  Pennsylvania,  and  from  that  point  went  to  Wash- 
ington, where  he  arrived  safely  early  upon  the  morning  after 
Mr.  Hamlin. 

As  is  fully  detailed  in  the  sketch  of  the  life  of  Elihu  B. 
Washburne  published  in  this  volume,  the  President  elect  was 
met  at  the  Baltimore  and  Ohio  Depot  by  Mr.  Washburne  and 
Senator  Seward,  and  by  them  accompanied  to  Willard's  Hotel, 
where  he  remained  quietly  until  the  day  of  the  inauguration.  On 
that  day  it  is  notable  that  neither  Mr.  Hamlin  nor  Mr.  Lincoln 
shared  the  fear  of  an  attack  upon  them  which  was  entertained 
by  many  of  their  friends.  Mr.  Hamlin  recollects  that  on  the 
memorable  occasion  in  question  Mr.  Lincoln  was  "  calm,  quiet, 
and  serene  as  a  summer  day."  Nor  was  the  Vice-President 
elect  in  any  way  disturbed  by  the  threats  and  rumors  which 
filled  the  capital.  Subsequently,  however,  during  conversations 
with  General  Scott,  who  was  known  to  have  been  greatly 
alarmed  for  the  safety  of  the  incoming  President  and  Vice- 
President,  Mr.  Hamlin  was  led  to  believe  that  the  sense  of  se- 
curity which  he  enjoyed  was  only  to  be  attributed  to  a  lack  of 
knowledge  the  possession  of  which  might  have  made  him  quite 
as  uneasy  as  was  General  Scott  and  others.  For  the  purposes 
of  this  sketch,  however,  it  is  only  necessary  to  add  that  the  in- 
auguration passed  off  without  any  disturbance,  though  in  the 
midst  of  deep  excitement. 

During  all  the  years  of  trial,  war,  and  bloodshed  which  fol- 
lowed that  memorable  4th  of  March,  1861,  and  until  his  foul 
assassination,  Abraham  Lincoln  continued  to  repose  the  utmost 
confidence  in  Hannibal  Hamlin.  At  their  Chicago  meeting, 
after  the   election,  it  will  be  remembered  that  the  President 


He  Served  the  State.  157 

elect  had  expressed  a  desire  that  Mr.  Hamlin  would  name  the 
member  of  the  Cabinet  who  was  to  be  selected  from  the  East- 
ern States.  In  accordance  with  this  desire,  Gideon  Welles  was 
named  as  Secretary  of  the  Navy.  As  to  the  wisdom  of  the 
selection  nothing  need  now  be  said.  It  may  be  mentioned, 
however,  that  the  well-meaning,  though  not  always  competent, 
Mr.  Welles  was  not  long  in  office  when  Vice-President  Hamlin 
ceased  to  have  any  relations  with  him.  The  incident  which  led 
to  the  rupture  well  illustrates  the  official  methods  of  the  time. 

Shortly  after  the  outbreak  of  the  rebellion  the  Navy  Depart- 
ment was  authorized  to  provide  for  the  construction  by  con- 
tractors of  a  number  of  sloops-of-war.  A  noted  ship-builder 
of  Maine,  an  earnest,  patriotic  man,  was  most  anxious  to  con- 
struct one  of  these  vessels  at  a  cheap  price,  thereby  contribut- 
ing his  share  to  the  suppression  of  the  rebellion.  Acquainting 
Vice-President  Hamlin  with  this  desire,  that  gentleman  went 
to  Secretary  Welles  and  asked  that  the  ship-builder  in  ques- 
tion might  be  given,  upon  such  terms  as  the  Government  should 
indicate,  a  contract  to  build  one  of  the  sloops. 

"  Certainly,  Mr.  Hamlin,  certainly,"  was  the  ready  response 
of  the  Secretary.  "  The  gentleman  is  in  every  way  responsible 
— that  I  know — and  he  shall  have  the  contract." 

"  Then  I  can  be  assured  that  there  will  be  no  mistake  about 
the  matter  ?"  said  Mr.  Hamlin. 

"  Certainly,  certainly  ;  the  contract  will  be  awarded  at  once," 
was  the  reply  of  the  Secretary ;  and  so  the  matter,  for  the  mo- 
ment, ended.  Later  in  the  day,  however,  the  Vice-President, 
learning  that  certain  bureau  officers  had  more  to  do  with  the 
awarding  of  contracts  than  the  Secretary  himself,  again  went 
to  Mr.  Welles,  informed  him  of  the  information  which  he  had 
received,  and  was  again  assured  in  the  most  positive  way  that 
the  contract  would  be  awai'ded  as  arranged. 

A  few  da)7s  afterward,  greatly  to  Mr.  Hamlin's  astonishment, 
it  was  announced  that  the  contracts  for  building  the  sloops-of- 


158  Twelve  Americans. 

war  bad  been  made,  but  tbe  construction  of  none  of  them  bad 
been  assigned  to  the  ship-builder  endorsed  by  the  Vice-Presi- 
dent. One  contract  had  been  given  to  Maine ;  but  it  had  been 
assigned,  as  the  event  proved,  to  a  man  who  was  in  active 
sympathy  with  the  rebels,  and  who  applied  for  the  work  only 
to  make  all  the  money  he  could  out  of  it.  Subsequently  Mr. 
Hamlin  learned  that  the  contracts  had  been  awarded  by  the 
bureau  officers  by  lot ;  that  is  to  say,  the  names  of  the  respon- 
sible bidders  for  the  work  had  been  put  into  a  hat,  shaken  up, 
and  the  requisite  number  then  drawn  out.  Not  approving  of 
such  methods  of  conducting  the  public  business,  and  being  un- 
able to  forgive  what  he  regarded  as  a  direct  violation  of  good 
faith,  the  sturdy  Vice-President,  after  giving  Secretary  Welles 
plainly  to  understand  what  he  thought  of  his  conduct,  refused 
ever  after  to  speak  with  him. 

Two  other  incidents  in  this  period  of  Mr.  Hamlin's  life  are 
not  only  most  interesting,  but  historically  of  great  importance. 
When  the  war  commenced,  the  Vice-President,  in  advance  of 
many  of  his  associates,  foresaw  that  its  ultimate  result  must  be 
the  liberation  of  the  slaves.  It  is  not  claimed — certainly  not 
by  him,  the  most  modest  of  men — that  he  had  any  accurate 
idea  as  to  the  exact  manner  in  which  such  liberation  was  to 
occur ;  still  he  was  convinced  that,  sooner  or  later,  and  in  some 
way,  the  slaves  would  be  set  free.  Holding  these  views,  as  the 
war  progressed  he  repeatedly  urged  upon  the  President  the 
advisability  of  issuing  an  emancipation  proclamation.  To  all 
the  arguments  in  favor  of  such  a  course  Mr.  Lincoln  gave  the 
most  thoughtful  and  earnest  attention,  but  let  drop  no  hint 
as  to  what  his  action  in  the  matter  would  be.  This  was  the 
situation  when,  one  evening,  Mr.  Hamlin  went  to  the  White 
House,  and  announced  to  tbe  President  that  he  intended  to 
leave  that  night  for  a  visit  to  his  home. 

"  No ;  you  don't  intend  to  do  anything  of  the  sort,"  was  the 
somewhat  remarkable  response  of  the  President. 


He  Served  the  State.  159 

"  Ob  yes,  but  I  do,"  replied  Hamlin,  not  quite  understand- 
ing Mr.  Lincoln. 

"  No,"  said  tbe  latter,  "  you  do  not  intend  anything  of  the 
sort.  In  short,  Mr.  Vice-President,  you  will  not  leave  Wash- 
ington at  present."  This  Mr.  Lincoln  said  with  a  look  which 
was  far  more  significant  than  his  words ;  and  Mr.  Hamlin,  see- 
ing that  he  had  something  of  more  than  ordinary  importance 
on  his  mind,  replied, 

"Of  course  I  will  not  think  of  doing  so  if  you  wish  other- 
wise.   You  are  the  Commander-in-chief,  and  I  am  under  orders." 

"  And  I  order  you,"  continued  the  President,  laughing,  "  to 
sit  in  that  chair,  and  afterward  to  ride  with  me  to  supper." 

Hamlin  did  as  was  desired,  and  shortly  afterward  the  two 
gentlemen,  guarded  by  a  file  of  soldiers,  rode  on  horseback  out 
to  the  summer  residence  of  the  President.  There  they  quietly 
partook  of  a  light  supper,  and  then  the  President  invited  his 
guest  into  the  library.  Here,  having  carefully  closed  the  door, 
he  turned  to  his  trusty  adviser  and  said, 

"  Mr.  Hamlin,  you  have  been  repeatedly  urging  me  to  issue 
a  proclamation  emancipating  the  slaves.  I  have  concluded  to 
yield  to  your  advice  in  the  matter,  and  that  of  other  friends — 
at  the  same  time,  as  I  may  say,  following  my  own  judgment. 
Now  listen  to  me  while  I  read  this  paper.  We  will  correct  it 
together  as  I  go  on."  Saying  which,  the  President  unrolled 
and  read  the  famous  proclamation  which  gave  liberty  and 
manhood  to  four  million  human  chattels. 

Still  another  important  incident  in  the  same  direction  :  Mr. 
Stanton,  the  Secretary  of  War,  together  with  Vice-President 
Hamlin  and  Simon  Cameron,  had  frequently  urged  upon  Pres- 
ident Lincoln  the  advisability  of  organizing  regiments  of  col- 
ored troops.  The  President  did  not  at  first  look  favorably 
upon  the  proposition,  and  Mr.  Stanton  had  almost  given  up 
hope  of  bringing  him  to  his  way  of  thinking. 

One  evening,  while  this  was  the  situation,  a  deputation  of 


160  2'welve  Americans. 

ten  array  officers — all  brave,  well-informed,  and  earnest  men, 
though  none  of  them  of  particularly  high  rank — went  to  the 
Vice-President's  lodgings  and  begged  him  to  urge  the  Presi- 
dent to  authorize  the  arming  of  negroes. 

"  If  such  a  thing  can  be  done,"  said  Mr.  Hamlin,  after  hear- 
ing them  through,  "  would  you,  and  other  men  like  you,  be 
willing  to  command  the  colored  troops?" 

"  Yes,  sir ;  gladly,"  they  replied,  almost  in  a  breath. 

"  Very  well,"  was  the  decisive  response  of  Mr.  Hamlin,  "  if 
you  are  willing  to  undertake  the  task  I  will  see  to  it  that  you 
have  an  opportunity  of  presenting  your  views  to  the  Presi- 
dent." Saying  this,  though  it  was  ten  o'clock  at  night,  he 
sent  a  messenger  to  the  White  House,  asking  when  it  would 
be  convenient  for  Mr.  Lincoln  to  see  him  and  his  army  friends. 
The  President,  without  delay,  fixed  an  interview  for  eight 
o'clock  the  next  morning. 

At  that  hour  Mr.  Hamlin,  with  the  ten  officers,  went  to  the 
White  House.  The  latter  fully  presented  their  case  to  Mr. 
Lincoln.  When  they  had  done  so  he  turned  to  Hamlin  and 
asked,  evidently  much  perplexed, 

"What  is  your  best  judgment  about  this?" 

"  I  think,"  was  the  reply,  "  that  these  gentlemen  are  entirely 
right.  If  they  are  ready  to  move — if  they,  and  other  good 
men  like  them,  are  ready  to  give  up  their  present  positions  and 
take  places  in  negro  regiments — I  am  sure  it  is  but  right  that 
you  should  give  them  authority  to  do  so." 

"Yes,  yes,"  repeated  the  President  three  or  four  times;  and 
then,  with  the  exclamation,  "  I  suppose  the  time  has  come!" 
he  turned  to  his  desk  and  for  a  few  moments  wrote  rapidly. 
Then,  turning  to  Hamlin,  he  said, 

"  Here  is  an  order  to  Secretary  Stanton  authorizing  the 
arming  of  colored  troops." 

"  May  I  be  your  messenger  to  the  Secretary  ?"  eagerly  asked 
Mr.  Hamlin. 


lie  Served  the  State.  161 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  the  President,  smiling  in  his  own  quaint 
way ;  "  take  it  to  Stanton — take  it  to  Stanton.  I  am  glad  to 
know  that  you  are  both  satisfied." 

Without  a  moment's  delay  the  Vice-President  hurried  to 
the  War  Office,  found  the  Secretary  in  his  private  room,  and 
hastily  told  him  what  had  occurred. 

"  No,  no !  it  can't  be  possible !"  exclaimed  Stanton,  with 
suppressed  excitement,  and  hardly  daring  to  believe  that  one 
of  his  pet  schemes  was  about  to  go  into  effect. 

"  Here  is  the  President's  order,"  was  Hamlin's  simple  re- 
sponse. 

Hastily  the  Secretary  took  and  read  it,  was  silent  for  a  mo- 
ment, and  then,  throwing  aside  his  usual  gruff ness  of  manner, 
his  real  feeling  came  to  the  surface,  great  tears  welled  up  into 
his  eyes  and  flowed  over  his  care-worn  face.  Then,  convul- 
sively throwing  his  arms  about  Hamlin,  he  cried  out,  with  all 
the  earnestness  of  a  deep,  strong  nature, 

"  Thank  God  for  this !  thank  God  for  this  !" 

From  these  incidents  it  will  be  seen  that  Mr.  Hamlin,  dur- 
ing all  the  dark  days  of  war,  exerted  great  influence  upon  the 
Administration.  He  was  continually  urging  greater  activity 
against  the  rebels,  and  in  this  direction  was  always  met  more 
than  half-way  by  Secretary  Stanton.  Mr.  Seward,  on  the  other 
hand,  during  most  of  this  time,  seemed  to  his  intimate  associ- 
ates never  to  have  fully  recovered  from  the  idea  that  he  could 
write  dowrn  the  rebellion  with  his  own  good  pen ;  and  even  the 
great  President  himself  at  times  seemed  to  be  more  anxious  to 
be  led  by  public  sentiment  than  to  take  the  initiative  in  any 
grave  matter.  When  he  took  a  position,  however,  knowing  he 
was  right,  he  never  deserted  it. 

But  it  was  not  only  by  good  advice  that  Hannibal  Hamlin 
aided  the  progress  of  the  war  against  secession.  Many  a  regi- 
ment of  Maine  troops,  and  many  an  individual  soldier  and  of- 
ficer, can  bear  abundant  testimony  to  the  jealous  care  which  he 


1 62  Twelve  Americans. 

continually  took  of  their  interests.  Had  his  position  been  a 
different  one  he  might  have  done  more.  Situated  as  he  was, 
however,  it  can  with  all  truth  be  said  that  he  did  everything 
which  was  in  the  power  of  man  to  do. 

These  facts  were  so  well  known  to  man}'  of  the  most  ear- 
nest Republicans,  that  when  his  term  as  Vice-President  was 
drawing  to  a  close  they  earnestly  urged  him  to  accept  a  re- 
nomination.  Naturally  enough,  a  man  of  his  marked  ability 
and  high  standing  found  much  that  was  disagreeable  in  the  in- 
significant office  which  by  courtesy  is  called  the  second  in  the 
nation.  Still,  he  did  not  decline  to  be  a  candidate,  and  his 
name  was  put  in  nomination  before  the  National  Convention. 
He  was  defeated,  some  people  say  by  a  trick,  others  by  a  mis- 
take. The  fact  is,  that  on  the  roll-call  the  Chairman  of  the 
Iowa  delegation  wrongfully  cast  for  his  opponent  votes  which 
were  pledged  to  him.  This  seemed  to  turn  the  tide  against 
him.  His  friend  Cameron,  from  Pennsylvania,  believing,  erro- 
neously, that  he  was  defeated  as  the  roll  stood,  swung  into  line 
for  Andrew  Johnson,  and  so  that  gentleman  was  declared  nom- 
inated. In  the  campaign  which  followed  Mr.  Hamlin  was  in 
the  front  rank  of  the  most  earnest  supporters  of  Lincoln  and 
Johnson.  Subsequently,  when  the  great  President  was  mur- 
dered, and  Johnson  went  into  the  White  House,  that  gentle- 
man appointed  Mr.  Hamlin  to  be  Collector  of  the  Port  of  Bos- 
ton. That  position  he  held  for  a  year ;  and  then,  being  dissat- 
isfied with  President  Johnson's  course,  he  resigned,  saying,  in 
a  characteristically  honest  and  straightforward  letter,  that  he 
was  against  the  Administration,  intended  to  oppose  it,  and  could 
not  conscientiously  do  so  while  holding  its  office. 


He  Served  the  State.  163 

VII. 

AFTER  FIFTY   YEARS   OF  PUBLIC   SERVICE. 

Subsequently,  in  1869,  Mr.  Hamlin  was  re-elected  to  the 
United  States  Senate.  Of  his  continued  service  in  that  body 
from  the  year  in  question  down  to  the  4th  of  March,  1881,  it 
is  unnecessary  to  speak  in  detail.  It  need  only  be  said  that 
at  last  he  gave  up  his  high  trust  voluntarily — gave  it  up  be- 
cause he  honestly  believed  some  younger  and  more  active  man 
might  better  perform  the  many  duties  of  the  position.  Had 
he  desired  re-election,  no  man  questions  that  a  simple  expres- 
sion of  his  wish  would  have  secured  it  for  him.  During  all 
his  recent  service  Mr.  Hamlin  was  a  working  rather  than  a 
talking  member  of  the  Senate.  How  hard,  earnest,  and  faith- 
ful his  work  has  been  can  be  testified  to  by  thousands  of  the 
people  of  Maine  who  have  written  to  him,  many  of  them  upon 
the  most  trivial  and  insignificant  matters,  and  who  have  al- 
ways received  from  him  prompt  and  courteous  response.  How 
faithful  he  has  been  can  best  be  told  by  those  who  served 
with  him  in  committee,  and  who  always  found  him  the  first 
and  last  at  his  post.  How  disinterested  his  service  has  been 
may  be  inferred  from  the  fact  that,  after  fifty  years  of  con- 
tinuous public  service — years  in  which  hundreds  of  men  with 
far  less  opportunity  made  for  themselves  millions  of  dollars 
—  he  retired  to  his  quiet  home  in  Maine  with  an  income 
barely  sufficient  to  support  himself  and  his  little  family  in  the 
most  moderate  style.  And  yet  were  it  not  for  his  extraordi- 
nary integrity  and  lofty  ideas  of  public  duty,  he  might  easily 
have  been  a  very  rich  man.  During  his  first  service  in  Con- 
gress he  had  opportunities  which  would  have  made  him  so. 

For  instance,  very  early  in  his  service  in  the  House — when 
its  clerk,  Mr.  McNulty,  was  charged  with  improper  practices, 
and,  after  displaying  sufficient  nerve  to  call  the  yeas  and  nays 


164  Twelve  Americans. 

on  a  resolution  ordering  his  own  dismissal,  was  obliged  to  re- 
tire— Mr.  Hamlin  was  instrumental  in  securing  the  election  of 
the  famous  "Ben"  French  to  his  place.  For  this  service  Mr. 
French  was  ever  afterward  most  grateful.  One  day,  full  of 
this  feeling,  be  came  to  Mr.  Hamlin  in  the  House  and  said, 

"  At  last,  Hamlin,  I  have  an  opportunity  of  repaying  you 
for  your  kindness  to  me.  Three  squares  of  tbe  District  of 
Columbia  are  to  be  sold — the  one  for  seven  mills  a  foot,  the 
other  for  five,  and  the  other  for  three  mills.  We  can  secure 
this  property  quietly,  and  I  know  of  public  improvements 
shortly  to  take  place  near  it  which  will  so  increase  its  value 
as  to  make  our  fortunes." 

"  That's  all  very  well,"  said  Hamlin  ;  "  but  if  the  property 
were  to  be  sold  for  one  mill  a  foot  I  have  no  money  to 
buy  it." 

"  In  that  case,"  said  French,  after  consideration,  "  Fll  tell 
you  what  I  will  do.  I  will  raise  the  money  and  buy  a  por- 
tion of  the  property  in  your  name.  When  the  improvements 
I  know  of  are  made,  and  the  great  increase  in  value  comes — 
as  it  must  come — you  can  sell  a  small  portion  of  the  property, 
and  pay  me  what  I  have  advanced." 

"You  are  very  kind,"  said  Mr.  Hamlin,  fully  grateful  for 
the  offer ;  "  but  the  fact  is,  while  there  is  no  actual  wrong  in 
the  proposition,  /  do  not  think  it  xvould  be  right  for  me  to  use 
information  which  I  secure  as  a  public  servant  to  advance  my 
private  fortune."     So  the  matter  was  dropped. 

The  principles  implied  in  Mr.  Hamlin's  answer  to  French 
he  lived  up  to  all  his  life.  The  property  which  he  might 
have  bought  for  five  mills  a  foot,  as  described,  is  now  in  the 
heart  of  Washington,  just  back  of  the  Interior  and  Post-office 
Departments,  and  readily  sells  for  three  dollars  a  foot. 

Incidentally  it  may  be  noted  that  Mr.  Hamlin,  during  his  half- 
century  of  public  service,  was  personally  aware  of  only  one 
legislative  transaction   which   could   even   remotely   be    called 


He  Served  the  State.  165 

corrupt.  That  was  many  years  ago.  A  certain  bill  was  under 
consideration,  and  a  Senator  (who  cannot  be  named)  came  to 
his  desk  and  said, 

"  Mr.  Hamlin,  if  this  bill  passes,  the  bonds  will  be 

worth  one  hundred  cents  on  the  dollar.  I  can  take  you,  or 
let  you  send,  to  a  place  where  you  can  now  get  any  quantity 
of  the  bonds  for  six  cents  on  the  dollar.  What  do  you  say 
to  the  chance  ?" 

"  I  say,  damn  your  chance  and  damn  your  bonds,  sir !"  was 
the  only  reply  of  the  indignant  Maine  Senator,  as  he  turned  his 
back  upon  the  man  whom  he  believed  had  insulted  him. 

This,  as  has  been  said,  was  the  only  instance  in  which  Mr. 
Hamlin  was  ever  approached  with  a  corrupt  proposition.  Fre- 
quently, however,  like  many  other  Senators,  he  received  inno- 
cent letters  from  constituents,  who,  knowing  no  better,  offered 
him  small  sums  of  money  as  an  inducement  to  perform  cer- 
tain services  which  they  required  at  his  hands.  It  has  always 
been  his  pleasure,  in  a  personal  communication,  to  set  such 
misguided  people  right  in  regard  to  what  he  thought  to  be 
the  duties  of  a  public  servant.* 

Hannibal  Hamlin  is  to-day — in  1883 — the  one  most  distin- 
guished connecting  link  between  the  great  statesmen  of  the 
past  and  of  the  present.  He  served  in  the  House  with  John 
Quincy  Adams,  Preston  King,  Stephen  A.  Douglas,  David  Wil- 
mot,  Henry  A.  Wise,  Barnwell  Rhett,  and  Howell  Cobb.  He 
served  in  the  Senate  with  Henry  Clay,  Daniel  Webster,  John 
C.  Calhoun,  Thomas  H.  Benton,  Simon  Cameron,  James  Bu- 
chanan, and   John  J.  Crittenden.      Later,  in  the  same  body, 

*  It  is  a  matter  of  record  that,  in  the  days  of  Webster,  Senators  and 
Representatives  in  Congress  in  some  cases  regarded  themselves  as  entitled 
to  pay  for  personal  services  rendered  to  their  constituents.  Mr.  Webster 
himself  seems  to  have  entertained  this  idea.  A  number  of  his  associates 
in  Congress  who  are  still  alive  recall  the  fact  that  on  more  than  one 
occasion  he  took  the  floor  in  the  Senate  as  the  paid  advocate  of  a  private 
bill. 


1 66  Twelve  Americans. 

he  sat  side  by  side  with  Seward,  Fessenden,  Sumner,  Chase, 
Douglas,  and  Morton  ;  and  still  later  he  acted  with  a  third 
generation  of  statesmen,  having  had  intimate  official  relations 
with  Edmunds,  Colliding,  Blaine,  Thurman,  and  Bayard. 

Mr.  Hamlin  went  out  of  public  life,  not  only  of  his  own  will, 
as  has  been  said,  but  without  any  regrets ;  indeed,  he  was  well 
satisfied  to  know  that  his  great  public  work  was  done.  On 
the  3d  of  March,  1881,  as  he  sat  for  the  last  time  in  the  Sen- 
ate Chamber,  he  wrote  a  letter  to  his  son,  General  Charles 
Hamlin,  in  which  he  said  : 

"  I  am  sitting  for  the  last  day  in  the  Senate,  and,  my  son,  I  am  a  happy 
man.  You  and  others  may  not  comprehend  it,  but  I  feel  it ;  and,  in  the 
language  of  the  sacred  poet,  I  may  say — 

"  '  This  is  the  day  I  long  have  sought.' " 

At  that  moment  Allen  G.  Thurman,  the  great  Democratic 
Senator,  and  Mr.  Hamlin's  warm  friend,  whose  term  of  service 
expired  at  the  same  moment,  sat  down  beside  him,  and,  seeing 
the  work  in  which  he  was  engaged,  said, 

"  Old  friend,  I  feel  just  as  you  do  ;"  and  then,  on  a  vacant 
page  of  the  paper  which  was  before  Mr.  Hamlin,  the  Ohio 
Senator  wrote  as  follows  to  his  friend's  son : 

"My  Dear  Me.  Hamlin. — I  have  not  the  pleasure  of  your  acquaintance, 
but  I  have  known  your  father  for  over  thirty-five  years.  Like  him,  I  can 
say  this  is  the  last  day  of  my  political  life,  and  I  am  rejoiced  to  go  out  of 
it  in  such  good  company  and  with  my  personal  friend  of  a  generation.  My 
sincere  wish  is  that  you  may  do  honor  to  a  father  so  illustrious. 

"  Truly  yours,  &c,  A.  G.  Thurman." 

But  Mr.  Hamlin  was  mistaken  in  believing  that  his  retire- 
ment from  the  Senate  would  also  be  his  retirement  from  all 
public  service.  Another  honor  was  in  store  for  him.  On  June 
30,  1881,  President  Garfield  appointed  him  Minister  to  Spain. 
If  the  appointment  was  not  the  last  made  by  the  President 
prior  to  the  foul  attack  upon  his  life,  it  was  among  the  last. 


He  Served  the  State.  \6y 

He  commented  upon  it  at  the  time  as  one  of  the  most  satisfac- 
tory appointments  he  had  made. 

When  his  commission  reached  him  Mr.  Hamlin  sought  the 
Secretary  of  State,  Mr.  Blaine,  and  said  he  could  only  accept 
with  the  understanding  that  he  would  be  at  liberty  to  resign  at 
any  time.  He  also  stated  that  he  might  remain  abroad  a  year, 
or  a  year  and  a  half,  but  certainly  not  longer  than  two  years. 
These  terms  were  fully  conceded,  and  Mr.  Hamlin  promised  to 
take  the  position.  Still,  the  President  being  in  so  critical  a 
condition,  he  did  not  like  to  leave  the  country ;  and  when  he 
died,  Mr.  Hamlin,  not  wishing  to  embarrass  President  Arthur, 
still  remained  at  home.  At  the  earliest  opportunity,  however, 
the  new  Chief  Magistrate,  with  that  respect  for  the  wishes  of 
his  predecessor  characteristic  of  his  Administration,  reappointed 
Mr.  Hamlin  to  the  extra  session  of  the  Senate.  The  appoint- 
ment was  unanimously  confirmed,  without  reference  to  a  com- 
mittee. Tn  October,  1881,  Mr.  Hamlin  sailed  for  his  new  post 
of  duty,  and,  returning  in  the  first  month  of  1883,  retired  to 
his  quiet  home,  near  Bangor,  in  "  the  old  Maine  State."  He 
left  Spain  sincerely  regretted  by  the  King  and  Foreign  Minis- 
ter, with  whom  his  relations  were  most  agreeable.  Upon  his 
return  to  Bangor  he  was  given  a  public  reception,  and  deliver- 
ed an  address,  in  which  it  is  noticeable  that,  as  a  result  of  his 
experience  abroad,  he  strongly  advocated  the  moderate  use  of 
light  wines,  as  the  best  cure  for  the  immoderate  drinking  of 
strong  liquors. 

In  connection  with  the  public  service  of  Mr.  Hamlin,  it  is 
not  amiss  to  recall  the  fact  that  when  he  first  received  political 
office  the  Union  was  composed  of  but  twenty-seven  States; 
since  then  eleven  new  States  have  been  added — but  two  less 
than  the  number  which  fought  for  and  established  the  Repub- 
lic. During  his  public  life  the  population  of  the  country  grew 
from  16,000,000  to  more  than  50,000,000,  the  increase  being 
nearly  35,000,000 — more  than  ten  times  the  whole  number  of 


1 68  Tvjelve  Americans. 

the  people  who  fought  for  and  "wrested  Independence  from 
Great  Britain.  In  his  time,  and,  to  an  extent,  by  reason  of  his 
efforts,  nearly  4,000,000  chattel  slaves  were  made  American 
free  men.  He  saw  his  country  grow  from  a  third-rate  power 
to  be  the  foremost  nation  of  the  world. 

Eegarding  his  own  share  in  the  great  events  referred  to,  it 
can  with  truth  be  said  of  him  that  he  did  his  whole  duty 
faithfully  and  well. 

Personally  Hannibal  Hamlin  is,  and  will  be,  missed  in  the 
Senate  Chamber  and  in  Washington.  His  shrewd,  genial  face, 
and  tall,  bent  form — clad  invariably  in  a  rusty,  full-dress  suit 
of  black  broadcloth,  which,  upon  the  coldest  day,  was  never 
supplemented  by  any  other  covering — will  be  particularly  miss- 
ed by  those  visitors  to  the  national  capital  who  knew  in  him 
the  link  which  bound  together  the  days  that  are  gone  and  the 
time  that  is.  The  place  which  he  occupied  in  the  Senate  and 
in  the  nation  can  never  be  filled.  Men  may  come  and  men 
may  go,  but  there  will  never  be  present  in  the  councils  of  this 
country  a  man  of  greater  patriotism,  honesty,  conscientious- 
ness, fidelity,  and  simple,  unaffected  worth,  than  the  sturdy  old 
gentleman  who  was  for  so  many  years  the  senior  Senator  from 
Maine. 


For  Fifty  Years  an  Actor. 


JOHN    GILBERT. 


For  Fifty  Years  an  Actor. 


JOHN    GILBERT. 


AT  REST  BY  THE  SEA. 

A  few  hundred  yards  from  the  ocean-beach,  nestling  among 
lofty  old  trees  which  have  braved  many  a  winter's  storm,  cov- 
ered with  creeping  vines,  in  full  view  of  the  blue  Atlantic,  but 
by  surrounding  hills  of  brightest  green  sheltered  from  the  keen 
east  winds,  on  a  shady  lane  not  far  from  the  village  of  Manchcs- 
ter-by-Sea,  in  Massachusetts,  there  stands  a  brown,  red-tiled,  low- 
roofed  cottage.  The  foundation  for  the  little  structure  was  laid 
one  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago ;  and  fresh  paint,  with  many 
modern  improvements,  have  not  been  sufficient  to  steal  from  it 
the  antiquated,  prim,  and  sober  appearance  which  is  one  of  its 
greatest  charms.  A  broad  piazza,  almost  hidden  by  overhang- 
ing honeysuckle,  runs  around  one  side  of  the  cottage,  and,  be- 
ing supported  by  huge  blocks  of  hard,  gray  stone,  gives  every 
evidence  of  a  deep-seated  intention  to  remain  in  place  for  many 
a  year  to  come.  A  low,  old-fashioned  door,  which  leads  from 
this  porch  and  seems  to  be  ever  ajar,  gives  entrance  to  the 
house.  There  is  no  hall-way.  Having  crossed  the  threshold, 
the  visitor  at  once  finds  himself  in  the  snuggest,  most  orderly, 
and  yet  most  disorderly,  of  rooms.  In  one  corner  stands  a 
great  oaken  book- case,  black  with  age,  but  still  strong  and 
sound.  A  broad,  cushioned  lounge  of  the  olden  time  occupies 
a  place  of  honor  under  a  quaint  little  window  set  high  up  near 


170  Twelve  Americans. 

the  tiled  ceiling.  In  the  middle  of  the  floor  a  table  of  dark, 
polished  wood  supports  a  litter  of  magazines,  modern  novels, 
volumes  of  ancient  history,  and  books  of  plays.  The  walls  are 
everywhere  hang  with  old  engravings,  with  woodcuts  of  cele- 
brated actors,  now  long  dead,  with  here  and  there  a  modern 
photograph  of  some  player  who,  in  these  later  days,  amuses 
the  people  of  London  and  New  York.  In  odd  and  unexpected 
corners  of  the  room,  and  over  the  old,  wide-mouthed,  brick  fire- 
place, are  queer  knickknacks  of  all  sorts.  Chairs,  deep-seated 
and  high-backed,  are  placed  invitingly  about  the  floor.  The 
whole  room  looks  as  if  it  was  made  to  live  in  —  to  be  con- 
tented in. 

As  I  entered  it,  on  a  bright  morning  early  in  July,  I  found 
the  deepest -seated  and  highest  -  backed  chair  occupied  by  a 
courtly  old  gentleman,  who,  judging  from  his  appearance, 
might  be  the  lord  of  some  broad  English  domain,  a  great  ship- 
owner, or  a  well-read  country  doctor  of  the  olden  time.  Tali, 
well-proportioned,  though  somewhat  portly;  slightly  bent  by 
the  passing  years — which  in  other  respects  had  dealt  most  gen- 
tly with  him — his  keen,  gray-blue  eyes  and  broad,  open  face 
beaming  with  quick  wit  and  good-humor;  more  than  seventy 
years  of  age,  but  strong  and  active  as  most  men  of  fifty — he 
sat,  the  master  and  owner  of  the  cottage. 

Lord  of  great  English  domains  he  has  never  in  reality  been, 
nor  has  he  owned  ships  or  humored  the  fancies  of  a  round 
of  country  patients.  On  the  theatrical  stage,  however,  he  has 
done  all  these  things  and  many  more ;  for  the  master  of  the 
little  house  by  the  sea  at  Manchester  is  John  Gilbert,  one  of  the 
representative  actors  of  America — in  many  respects  the  greatest 
actor  of  his  time. 

For  a  score  of  summers  he  has  rested  in  the  same  sea-side 
cottage.  In  it  he  gave  me  material  for  the  following  sketch  of 
his  eventful  career — a  career  which  is  not  only  exceedingly  in- 
teresting in  itself,  but  most  important,  as  being  a  part  of  the 


For  Fifty  Years  an  Actor.  171 

history  of  the  dramatic  stage  in  America  during  the  last  half- 
centmy. 

On  the  27th  of  February,  1810,  John  Gilbert  was  born,  in 
Boston,  in  a  house  adjoining  that  in  which  the  greatest  of 
American  actresses,  Charlotte  Cushman,  first  saw  the  light. 
His  parents  and  all  his  relatives  were  people  in  comfortable 
circumstances,  and,  though  not  religious,  in  the  strictest  sense 
of  the  word,  were  church-goers  and  great  sticklers  for  pro- 
priety. They  did  not  belong  to  that  class  of  pious  and  stupid 
people  who  hold  that  the  theatre  is  the  anteroom  to  the  abode 
of  his  satanic  majesty,  but  there  is  every  reason  to  believe  that 
they  regarded  the  calling  of  .an  actor  as  being  anything  but  a 
reputable  one.  Reared  in  such  an  atmosphere,  it  is  difficult  to 
imagine  where  young  Gilbert  conceived  his  passionate  fondness 
for  the  stage.  He  does  not  know  himself,  though  he  remem- 
bers distinctly  that  when  he  was  yet  a  child  it  was  his  great- 
est delight  to  steal  away  into  some  barn  or  out-house,  and,  hav- 
ing an  old-fashioned  bed-cover  for  a  curtain,  with  one  or  two 
companions  of  similar  tastes,  to  play  at  managing  a  theatre 
and  representing  plays. 

At  the  Boston  High-school,  which  he  attended  when  he  was 
old  enough,  he  was  soon  recognized  as  the  head  of  the  class  in 
declamation.  So  he  continued  until  the  annual  exhibition,  just 
before  his  school  life  was  to  come  to  a  close,  when,  by  what 
seem  to  have  been  really  commendable  recitations  of  scenes 
from  "  The  Iron  Chest "  and  "  Venice  Preserved,"  he  created 
a  sensation  among  the  large  audience  present,  and  caused  his 
shrewd  old  uncle,  who  was  one  of  the  spectators,  to  exclaim,  in 
great  anguish  of  spirit,  "  I  am  very  much  afraid  that  all  this 
will  lead  to  play-acting  !" 

At  first  there  seemed  to  be  no  prospect  that  this  prediction 
would  be  realized.  At  the  age  of  fourteen,  having  acquired 
what  was  regarded  as  a  fair  English  education,  John  Gilbert 
was  placed  in  the  dry-goods  store  of  his  uncle,  and,  much  to 


172  Twelve  Americans. 

his  disgust,  was  expected  to  make  himself  acquainted  with  all 
the  mysteries  of  selling  tape  and  measuring  calico.  Try  as  he 
would,  he  could  not  bring  himself  to  like  the  business.  He 
was  continually  making  mistakes,  and  seldom  succeeded  in  sell- 
ing goods.  He  still  continued  his  connection  with  the  High- 
school  class  in  declamation,  however;  and,  devoting  every  min- 
ute he  could  spare  or  steal  to  the  study  of  new  pieces  and 
scenes  from  plays,  he  in  time  came  to  be  regarded  as  one  of 
the  best  amateur  readers  in  Boston.  This  sort  of  life  he  con- 
tinued until  he  had  reached  his  eighteenth  year,  when  the  re- 
bellion which  had  long  been  smouldering  broke  out,  and  he 
determined  that  he  would  brave  the  anger  of  his  mother,  uncle, 
and  other  relatives  and  go  upon  the  stage. 

At  that  time — now  more  than  fifty  years  ago — the  old  Tre- 
mont  Theatre,  in  Boston,  was  owned  and  managed  by  a  com- 
mittee of  stockholders,  who  knew  little  or  nothing  about  theat- 
rical matters,  and  who,  in  consequence  of  their  lack  of  knowl- 
edge, made  many  blunders,  sometimes  engaging  two  "stars" 
for  the  same  night,  and  in  other  ways  wofully  mixing  up  the 
business  of  the  establishment.  To  this  theatre,  so  conducted, 
young  Gilbert,  happening  to  know  a  gentleman  who  had  some 
influence  with  the  stockholders,  applied  for  what  was  called 
"  an  appearance,"  and,  much  to  his  delight,  was  told  that  on  a 
certain  afternoon  the  directors  would  meet  at  the  theatre,  listen 
to  a  recitation  from  him,  and  decide  whether  they  would  allow 
him  to  appear  before  the  public  on  their  stage.  Filled  with 
hope,  he  went  to  the  theatre  at  the  time  appointed,  getting  out 
of  the  store  on  some  trumped-up  excuse.  He  waited  for  half 
an  hour,  but  none  of  the  directors  came ;  still  another  half- 
hour,  and  still  he  was  alone.  For  three  of  the  longest  hours 
he  had  ever  known  in  his  life  he  waited,  sitting  on  a  pile  of 
dusty  scenes  in  the  dim  light  of  a  cramped  and  old-fashioned 
stage ;  but  not  one  of  the  directors  came.  He  saw  no  one  but 
the  back-door-keeper,  a  short-spoken  person,  who,  like  his  fel- 


For  Fifty  Years  an  Actor.  173 

lows  of  to-day,  believed  that  it  was  part  of  his  duty  to  be 
frowning  and  uncivil ;  and,  almost  heart-broken  with  the  bit- 
terness of  his  disappointment,  he  went  back  to  the  store  to 
sell  calico  and  measure  tape.  The  next  day,  however,  his  hopes 
were  revived  by  a  visit  from  his  friend,  who  told  him  that 
an  important  business  engagement  had  prevented  the  directors 
from  meeting  him,  as  had  been  arranged,  but  that  they  would 
gladly  see  him  three  days  later. 

The  time  fixed  upon  at  last  arrived ;  and  John,  again  mak- 
ing some  excuse  to  his  uncle,  managed  to  get  out  of  the  store 
and  make  his  way  to  the  theatre.  With  a  rapidly-beating 
heart  he  passed  the  grim  back-door-keeper,  and  found  himself 
on  the  stage,  in  the  presence  of  a  number  of  the  directors  and 
stockholders,  and  of  "Joe"  Cowell,  the  grandfather  of  Kate 
Bateman,  and  at  that  time  stage-manager  of  the  Tremont  Thea- 
tre. "Dear  old  Joe,"  as  Mr.  Gilbert  still  affectionately  calls 
him,  died  years  ago,  but  at  the  time  of  which  I  write  he  was 
one  of  the  leading  actors  of  the  country. 

Upon  him,  as  stage-manager,  devolved  the  duty  of  seeing 
what  there  was  in  the  young  aspirant  for  the  honors  of  the 
stage;  and  with  but  scant  ceremony  he  said,  after  John  had 
been  introduced, 

"  We  are  told  that  you  want  to  be  an  actor,  sir.  What  can 
you  do  ?" 

"  What  can  I  do  ?"  repeated  the  boy,  embarrassed  by  the 
abruptness  of  the  question.  "  I  beg  pardon,  sir,  but  I  hardly 
understand  you." 

"  I  mean  to  say,  what  can  you  play — or  think  you  can  play  ?" 
said  the  stage-manager ;  and  then  the  boy,  with  the  utmost 
confidence,  replied, 

"  I  can  play  Jaffier,  in  '  Venice  Preserved,'  or  Sir  Edward 
Mortimer,  in  '  The  Iron  Chest.'  " 

"  Somewhat  difficult  parts,"  laughed  Cowell. 

"  Yes,  I  know  they  are,"  said  the  boy,  "  but  I  can  play  them." 


174  Twelve  Americans. 

"Well,  then,  let's  have  a  scene  from  'Venice  Preserved,'" 
cried  the  manager,  still  laughing  at  the  presumption  of  the 
candidate ;  and  they  commenced. 

Cowell  took  up  a  prompt-book  and  gave  the  cues,  while 
Gilbert  went  through  the  role  of  Jaffier.  Spurred  to  extra 
exertion  by  the  laughter  which  had  greeted  the  announcement 
of  his  repertoire,  he  recited  the  part  with  all  the  vigor  and 
force  of  which  he  was  capable.  He  had  frequently  seen  the 
character  played  by  the  elder  Conway,  together  with  Thomas 
A.  Cooper  (at  that  time  a  "star"  of  the  first  magnitude),  and 
he  was  tolerably  acquainted  with  the  "business"  of  the  scene. 
He  was  perfect  in  his  lines,  too,  and  altogether  made  so  favor- 
able an  impression  that  even  Cowell  congratulated  him,  and 
the  directors  decided  to  give  him  "  a  public  appearance." 

II. 
A  DZBUT  AT  THE   OLD   TREMONT. 

The  happiest  young  man  in  Boston,  filled  with  many  bright 
dreams  of  the  success  which  he  was  sure  awaited  him,  John 
Gilbert  went  back  to  the  calico  and  tape  counter.  For  the 
next  week  the  play -book  of  "Venice  Preserved"  was  never 
out  of  his  hand  or  his  pocket.  "Twaddle"  some  people  have 
since  called  it,  but  it  was  very  popular  then,  and  would  still  be, 
Mr.  Gilbert  maintains,  if  there  were  actors  upon  the  stage  who 
knew  how  to  represent  it  properly.  At  all  events,  he  was  thor- 
oughly wedded  to  it  then,  and  became  so  excited  that  he  was 
hardly  able  to  eat  or  sleep.  He  studied  his  role  night  and  day, 
continually  finding  some  new  "point"  which  he  thought  might 
be  made,  and  repeating  every  one  of  his  lines  a  hundred  times. 
The  hours  dragged  on  with  what  seemed  to  him  almost  mirac- 
ulous slowness,  but  at  last  the  week  was  past,  and  the  morning 
of  the  great  day  arrived. 

After  opening  the  store  his  first  care  was  to  read  the  an- 


For  Fifty  Years  an  Actor.  175 

nouncements  of  amusements ;  and  there,  in  black  and  white, 
to  his  great  joy,  he  found  recorded  that,  in  the  Tremont  Thea- 
tre, on  that  evening,  "  a  young  gentleman  of  Boston  "  would 
make  his  debut  as  Jaffier,  in  the  play  of  "  Venice  Preserved." 
There  could  no  longer  be  any  doubt  about  the  matter.  His 
dearest  hopes  were  to  be  realized ;  and,  hiding  the  paper  from 
his  uncle,  who  had  all  this  time  been  kept  in  the  dark  as  to 
his  movements,  he  hurried  off  to  the  only  rehearsal  with  the 
full  company  which  the  managers  were  able  to  give  him.  It 
passed  off  smoothly,  and  then  slowly  the  night  came  on.  The 
theatre  was  well  filled,  the  musicians — they  were  few  in  those 
days — played  their  piece,  the  curtain  rose,  the  play  commenced, 
and  at  last  John  Gilbert  was  on  the  stage. 

At  first  he  could  see  nothing  save  one  blaze  of  light,  but 
after  a  moment — could  it  be  possible? — yes,  it  was  his  uncle, 
grimly  staring  at  him  from  a  box  on  the  lower  tier,  and  within 
a  few  feet  of  the  foot-lights.  For  an  instant  the  young  actor 
was  so  much  alarmed  that  he  thought  he  would  be  obliged  to 
go  off  the  stage.  It  was  only  for  an  instant,  however.  Wisely 
concluding  that  so  long  as  he  remained  before  the  foot-lights 
he  was  secure  from  intrusion  from  his  uncle  or  other  relatives, 
he  went  on  with  his  part — went  on  with  all  the  enthusiasm  of 
youth,  without  considering  the  magnitude  of  the  undertaking, 
or  fully  understanding  the  responsibility  of  his  position ;  read 
his  lines  admirably,  acted  much  better  than  was  to  have  been 
expected  under  the  circumstances,  and,  when  the  curtain  went 
down  after  the  performance,  was  assured  on  all  sides  that  he 
had  done  well. 

In  those  days  it  was  not  customary  in  Boston  for  actors  to 
be  called  in  front  of  the  curtain ;  but  the  stage-manager,  or 
some  one  representing  him,  frequently  went  before  the  audi- 
ence to  make  announcements  in  connection  with  the  play 
in  progress  or  regarding  others  which  were  to  come.  So, 
when  young  Gilbert  had  finished  on  that,  to  him,  most  event- 


176  Twelve  Americans. 

ful  night,  "old  Joe  Cowell"  went  "in  front,"  and,  saying  a 
few  complimentary  words  in  regard  to  the  performance  of  the 
young  debutant,  announced  that  he  would  shortly  make  a  sec- 
ond appearance. 

This  was,  of  course,  all  very  well  as  far  as  it  went ;  but 
when  the  excitement  was  all  over,  the  lights  out,  and  John  Gil- 
bert had  taken  off  his  stage-trappings  and  returned  to  the  so- 
briety of  his  own  clothes,  it  suddenly  occurred  to  him  that  he 
had  no  place  to  sleep.  He  dared  not  face  his  uncle  after  what 
had  occurred,  and  he  did  not  for  the  moment  think  of  any 
other  friend  to  whose  house  he  might  go.  In  the  midst  of  his 
distress,  however,  he  was  relieved  by  the  appearance  of  an  ac- 
quaintance, who  seems  to  have  had  the  good-sense  to  appre- 
ciate his  situation,  and  who  invited  him  home  for  the  night. 

The  next  morning,  feeling  just  about  as  sheepish  and  crest- 
fallen as  it  was  possible  for  a  boy  to  be,  he  plucked  up  courage 
enough  to  visit  his  mother,  and  on  the  threshold  of  her  house 
encountered  an  old  family  servant,  who  greeted  him  with  the 
doleful  exclamation,  "Oh,  John  !  John  !  what  have  you  done?" 

This  was  only  a  slight  preface  to  what  was  to  come.  His 
mother  was  deeply  distressed  by  the  course  he  had  taken,  and 
for  a  long  time  refused  to  be  comforted.  At  length,  how- 
ever, he  won  her  over — as  fond  mothers  usually  are  won  by 
the  pleadings  of  wayward  sons — and  she  reluctantly  consented 
not  to  interfere  with  his  desire  to  become  a  professional  actor. 
This  point  settled,  he  began  to  study  with  renewed  ardor,  and 
soon,  to  his  own  thinking  at  least,  was  able  to  play  any  role, 
no  matter  how  difficult.  His  second  appearance  at  the  Tre- 
mont  Theatre  doubtless  did  much  to  intensify  this  feeling. 
He  played  Sir  Edward  Mortimer,  in  "  The  Iron  Chest,"  and 
was  successful  even  beyond  his  expectations.  Then  the  direc- 
tors— desiring,  of  course,  to  make  all  they  could  out  of  "  the 
boy  actor,"  as  he  was  called — allowed  him  to  appear  as  Shy- 
lock.     Afterward  he  was  given  a  benefit,  repeated  the  perform- 


For  Fifty  Years  an  Actor.  177 

ance  of  Sir  Edward  Mortimer,  and  realized  $100.  This  seem- 
ed to  him  to  be  a  very  large  sum.  He  fondly  imagined  that 
his  fortune  was  already  made,  and  that  he  had  nothing  farther 
to  do  but  go  on  playing  leading  characters  to  the  end  of  time. 
He  was  soon  undeceived,  and  by  bitter  experience  learned  that 
great  actors  are  not  made  in  a  day ;  that  their  work  is  never 
done ;  that  real  success  on  the  stage  can  only  be  secured  by 
constant,  untiring,  often  painful,  effort,  and  after  long  years  of 
thankless  drudgery. 

After  his  benefit,  the  directors  of  the  theatre,  seeing  that  the 
novelty  of  his  appearance  had  worn  off — in  short,  that  what 
may  be  called  "the  boy  actor  dodge"  could  no  longer  be  relied 
upon  to  bring  money  into  the  theatre — quietly  informed  him 
that  he  could  not  again  appear  in  "  star  parts,"  but  that  he 
might,  if  he  liked,  become  a  member  of  the  regular  stock-com- 
pany, and  be  cast  for  minor  characters  of  no  importance  which 
could  be  safely  intrusted  to  a  person  of  his  youth  and  inexpe- 
rience. This  was  a  terrible  blow  to  his  ambition,  but  there 
was  no  help  for  it.  He  had  to  accept;  and  in  the  months 
which  followed,  instead  of  playing  great  heroes,  he  was  forced 
to  content  himself  with  announcing,  "  My  good  lord,  the  car- 
riage waits,"  or,  "  May  it  please  your  grace,  my  master  is  with- 
in." Then  he  sank  even  lower  in  the  theatrical  scale.  His 
managers  began  to  lose  money,  and  sent  part  of  their  company 
to  Salem.  He  went  with  the  other  minor  people.  His  salary 
was  reduced  to  three  dollars  a  week,  and  for  some  time  after- 
ward he  was  destined  to  play  small  parts  to  a  handful  of  unap- 
preciative  country-people. 

Very  much  dissatisfied  with  this  position,  he  gladly  accepted 
an  offer,  made  him  while  in  Salem,  to  go  to  New  Orleans  in  a 
stock-company,  under  the  management  of  James  II.  Caldwell, 
one  of  the  earliest,  and  in  his  day  one  of  the  most  successful, 
of  American  directors.  The  salary  offered  the  young  actor 
was  barely  sufficient  to  hold  body  and  soul  together,  but  he 


178  Twelve  Americans. 

was  assured  that  from  time  to  time  he  •would  have  an  opportu- 
nity of  playing  important  parts  ;  and,  rejoicing  in  this  promise, 
he  went  to  the  Southern  metropolis.  The  Camp  Street  Thea- 
tre, in  Xew  Orleans,  which  was  under  Caldwell's  management, 
was  at  that  time  regarded  as  one  of  the  finest  in  the  country. 
To-day  a  third-class  variety  showman  would  turn  up  his  nose 
at  such  an  establishment.  "  The  front  of  the  house,"  as  the 
auditorium  is  called  by  theatrical  people,  was  capable,  when 
every  seat  was  sold  at  advanced  prices,  of  holding  about  8600. 
In  the  reserved  circles  the  long,  pew-like  seats  were  provided 
with  an  apology  for  cushions,  but  in  other  parts  of  the  house 
the  spectators  were  forced  to  content  themselves  with  bare 
wooden  benches.  The  stage  equipments  were  even  more  prim- 
itive. Xew  scenery  was  seldom  thought  of,  and  that  it  was 
necessary  to  have  different  scenes  for  different  plays  never  oc- 
curred to  even  the  most  exacting  critic.  The  same  "sets"  did 
duty  from  year's  end  to  year's  end,  and  witnessed  on  one  day 
the  dying  agonies  of  a  Roman  gladiator,  and  on  the  next  the 
ceremonies  attending  the  marriage  of  a  young  officer  of  the 
English  Guards.  Men  of  all  ages  and  nations  spoke  their  lines 
to  the  same  surroundings.  There  was  one  "  exterior  "  and  one 
"interior"  scene — no  more;  and  it  is  a  matter  of  record  that 
on  the  same  evening,  in  the  same  room,  Tom  and  Jerry  caper- 
ed, and  Julius  Caesar  was  killed  by  the  conspiring  Senators  of 
Rome. 

III. 

STOCK-ACTIXG   LOXG  AGO. 

It  was  in  the  old  Camp  Street  Theatre,  equipped  and  man- 
aged as  described,  that  John  Gilbert  made  his  first  bow  to  the 
Xew  Orleans  public,  then,  whether  justly  or  otherwise,  regarded 
as  the  most  appreciative  and  critical  in  the  country.  At  first 
he  played  small  parts  of  no  particular  consequence ;  but  after 
a  time,  much  to  his  satisfaction,  he  was  intrusted  with  the  more 


For  Fifty  Years  an  Actor.  179 

important  role  of  Sir  Frederick  Vernon,  in  "  Rob  Roy."  He 
studied  the  part  carefully,  determined  to  do  his  best.  He  was 
perfect  in  his  lines,  and  on  the  evening  of  the  performance 
stood  at  the  wing  waiting  for  his  cue,  and  ready  to  "go  on," 
fully  convinced  that  he  would  acquit  himself  at  least  creditably. 
The  cue  came,  he  went  on  the  stage,  opened  his  mouth,  and  shut 
it  again.  He  grew  faint,  dizzy,  hot  and  cold,  by  turns.  He  had 
his  first  attack  of  that  indescribable  malady  called  stage-fright, 
and  for  the  life  of  him  could  not  speak  a  word  !  The  audience 
hissed.  This  brought  him  to  his  senses  for  a  moment,  and  he 
managed  to  mumble  through  his  first  scene.  He  did  badly  all 
through  the  play,  however,  was  hissed  frequently,  and  at  the 
end,  when  he  went  before  the  curtain,  it  being  his  turn  to  make 
the  customary  announcement  of  coming  performances,  he  was 
greeted  with  a  little  storm  of  hoots,  yells,  and  other  evidences 
of  disapprobation.  This  was  the  only  time  during  his  long 
career  that  he  ever  completely  forgot  his  part,  or  was  hissed 
for  any  personal  shortcoming.  Once  or  twice,  however,  he  has 
been  hissed  for  speaking  lines  put  into  his  mouth  by  some 
indelicate  playwright. 

For  instance,  some  time  after  his  New  Orleans  mishap  he 
was  playing  in  Nashville,  in  the  once  popular  play  founded  on 
one  of  Cooper's  novels,  called  "  Long  Tom  Coffin,  the  Pilot," 
and,  referring  lovingly  to  his  ship,  was  obliged  to  say,  "  I  have 
seen  her  in  all  sorts  of  weathers  and  all  sorts  of  clothes,  with 
her  stays  and  without  her  stays."  This  was  more  than  the 
sensitive  people  of  the  inland  town  could  understand  or  toler- 
ate, and  he  was  hissed  off  the  stage. 

Fortunately,  no  bad  results  followed  his  failure  in  New  Or- 
leans. Manager  Caldwell  was  a  very  peculiar  gentleman,  who 
never  allowed  outside  criticism  to  affect  his  own  judgment  of 
an  actor.  Indeed,  it  is  related  of  him  that  at  one  time  he  had 
in  his  company  a  young  gentleman  with  a  cracked  voice  who 
fondly  imagined  that  he  knew  how  to  sing.     Caldwell,  who  did 


180  Twelve  Americans. 

not  know  one  note  from  another,  gave  him  every  opportunity 
to  do  so,  until  at  last  a  number  of  the  patrons  of  the  theatre 
came  to  him  and  begged,  in  the  name  of  everything  good,  that 
a  stop  be  put  to  the  so-called  singing. 

"  Prevent  Mr.  Blank  from  sfnging !"  cried  the  eccentric  man- 
ager, affecting  the  greatest  astonishment.  "  Why  do  you  want 
me  to  do  that,  gentlemen  ?" 

"Because  he  can't  sing,"  replied  the  spokesman  of  the 
party. 

"  Not  sing !"  exclaimed  Caldwell,  smiling  contemptuously. 
"  Not  sing  !  My  very  dear  sir,  you  certainly  must  be  mistaken. 
He  has  a  national  reputation,  sir — the  best  man  in  his  line  on 
the  stage,  sir." 

And  from  that  time  on  the  cracked-voiced  young  man  was 
made  to  sing,  whether  he  would  or  not,  "  just  to  show  peo- 
ple," as  the  manager  frequently  explained,  that  "James  II. 
Caldwell  knew  how  to  run  his  own  theatre,  sir." 

Under  such  a  manager,  it  may,  perhaps,  be  believed  that 
Gilbert  lost  nothing  by  being  hissed  ;  at  all  events,  such  was  the 
case.  Caldwell  seemed  to  take  rather  a  fancy  to  him  after  that 
occurrence,  and  the  very  next  week  cast  him  to  act  the  leading- 
old  man,  a  very  strong  tragedy  part,  in  a  play  called  "  The 
May  Queen."  He  did  remarkably  well,  and  in  his  closing 
scene  created  quite  a  sensation  by  feigning  death  with  a  fidel- 
ity to  nature  seldom  witnessed  on  the  New  Orleans  stage. 
When  the  curtain  fell  and  he  was  about  rising  to  his  feet  the 
manager — a  man  of  few  words,  it  will  be  remembered — gave 
him  a  hand  to  help  him  up,  patted  him  on  the  back,  and 
said, 

"  You  did  that  very  well,  sir — very  well  indeed." 

From  this  point  on  young  Gilbert,  with  increasing  frequency, 
assumed  the  role  of  a  gray-beard ;  and,  instead  of  portraying 
the  dashing  young  gallants  of  romance  whom  he  had  in  his 
mind's  eye  when  he  made  his  debut,  he  began  to  discover  that, 


For  Fifty  Years  an  Actor.  181 

if  he  was  to  succeed  on  the  stage,  he  must  confine  himself  en- 
tirely to  what  are  known  as  old  men's  parts.  Years  afterward, 
when  he  had  made  a  reputation  in  such  characters,  he  met  in 
New  York  the  same  Thomas  A.  Cooper  whom  he  had  long  be- 
fore admired  in  the  play  of  "  Venice  Preserved."  The  veteran, 
who  in  his  day  had  been  a  truly  great  actor,  after  saluting  Gil- 
bert in  an  abrupt,  quick  fashion  which  was  peculiar  to  him, 
said, 

"  You  know  I've  left  the  stage,  sir." 

"  Yes,  I  heard  as  much,"  replied  Gilbert ;  "  but  what  are  you 
doing  now  ?" 

"  Got  a  place  in  the  Custom-house,  sir." 

"  A  place  in  the  Custom-house !"  echoed  the  younger  man, 
in  great  astonishment,  and  then  asked,  "  Why  in  the  world  did 
you  not  stick  to  the  profession,  and  play  old  men's  parts?" 

"  Because,"  said  the  veteran,  "  it  requires  a  strong  young 
man  to  play  old  tragedy  parts  well." 

After  the  season  in  New  Orleans,  Manager  Caldwell  deter- 
mined to  take  his  company  on  a  trip  through  the  South  and 
South-west,  and  John  Gilbert  was  included  in  the  party.  With 
varying  success  they  travelled  through  the  Mississippi  towns, 
often  playing  in  halls  which  were  little  better  than  barns,  and 
more  than  once  going  to  bed  in  some  rude  out-house,  without 
any  very  clear  idea  as  to  how  they  were  to  get  breakfast  in 
the  morning.  For  nearly  five  years  Mr.  Gilbert  led  this  kind 
of  life,  making  a  little  money  and  some  reputation  in  New 
Orleans  and  other  large  towns  during  the  season,  and  after- 
ward "  roughing  it  on  the  road." 

Many  of  the  incidents  which  he  relates  of  this  period  in  his 
career  are  not  only  exceedingly  entertaining,  but  most  instruc- 
tive, as  illustrative  of  the  good-humored,  happy-go-lucky  im- 
providence of  American  actors  in  the  olden  time,  and  the  hap- 
hazard fashion  in  which  they  wandered  about  the  country. 

Toward  the  close  of  one  of  these  trips  through  the  border 


1 82  Twelve  Americans. 

States  the  company  to  which  Mr.  Gilbert  was  attached  played 
in  St.  Louis,  then  an  insignificant  town  of  a  few  thousand  in- 
habitants, paved  principally  with  mud  six  inches  deep,  and 
boasting  one  theatre,  transformed  out  of  an  old  salt-house,  the 
only  entrance  to  which  was  by  way  of  a  long  and  rickety  flight 
of  steps  built  on  the  outside  of  the  end  wall.  From  his  share 
of  the  receipts  of  a  performance  in  this  establishment  young 
Gilbert  bought  a  pair  of  very  fine-looking  boots,  and  on  ac- 
count of  them  was  for  the  moment  the  envy  of  his  compan- 
ions, several  of  whom  were  without  adequate  covering  for  their 
pedal  extremities.  They  said  very  little  regarding  his  pur- 
chase, however,  until  some  days  afterward,  when,  on  the  way 
down  the  Mississippi  to  New  Orleans,  the  boat  on  which  they 
had  taken  passage  stopped  at  Vicksburg  for  a  load  of  cotton. 
There  two  or  three  of  the  actors,  knowing  that  the  boat  would 
be  detained  all  night,  determined  to  give  a  performance  on 
their  own  account,  and  hired  a  negro  to  go  through  the  town, 
ring  a  bell,  and  make  the  announcement.  Toward  evening  it 
became  evident  that  the  tumble-down  shed  in  which  the  enter- 
tainment was  to  be  given  would  be  well  filled ;  and  old  "  Sol " 
Smith — "the  original  Sol" — who  was  to  be  one  of  the  per- 
formers, came  to  Gilbert,  and,  dolefully  displaying  a  pair  of 
shoes  through  which  a  torn  stocking  was  only  too  plainly 
visible,  said,  in  tones  which  would  have  done  credit  to  Forrest 
or  the  elder  Booth, 

"John,  friend  of  me  youth,  let  me  have  your  opinion  of 
these  shoes." 

"  They  are  very  bad  shoes,"  replied  Gilbert,  with  equal  so- 
lemnity ;  "  exceedingly  bad  shoes,  my  friend." 

"  In  fact,  it  would  be  injudicious,  as  it  were,  to  appear  before 
the  culture  and  fashion  of  Vicksburg  in  such  shoes?"  queried 
"  Sol ;"  and  Gilbert,  beginning  to  see  what  was  coming,  reluc- 
tantly admitted  that  "  the  culture  and  fashion  of  Vicksburg  " 
might  indeed  object  to  so  lavish  a  display  of  worn  stocking. 


For  Fifty  Years  an  Actor.  183 

"  Then,  me  friend,  me  noble  friend  !"  continued  "  the  inimi- 
table Sol,"  with  increasing  animation,  "  there  is  absolutely  no 
help  for  it.  Me  very  soul  revolts  at  being  compelled  to  ask 
the  sacrifice,  but  in  the  name  of  our  friendship  I  conjure — nay, 
I  command  you — to  lend  me  your  new  boots !" 

What  warm-hearted  man  could  have  withstood  such  an  ap- 
peal? Certainly  not  John  Gilbert.  Without  farther  ado  he 
pulled  off  the  new  boots  and  gave  them  to  his  friend.  They 
were  several  sizes  too  large  for  "  Sol ;"  still,  happy  in  their  pos- 
session, he  hurried  away  to  take  his  part  in  the  performance. 

The  house  was  well  filled.  "  Sol "  received  nearly  twenty 
dollars  as  his  share  of  the  proceeds,  and,  having  the  night  be- 
fore him,  wandered  about  "just  to  see  the  town,  you  know;" 
happened  into  a  gambling-saloon,  lost  all  his  money,  took  a 
brandy-smash  or  two,  became  happily  oblivious  to  what  was 
going  on  about  him,  staggered  out  into  the  street  toward  his 
boat,  and  at  last  arrived,  in  the  very  best  of  health  and  spirits, 
but  without  anything  on  his  feet. 

He  had  left  John  Gilbert's  new  boots  sticking  in  the  black 
mud  of  Vicksburg !  During  the  rest  of  the  trip  to  New  Or- 
leans that  eminent  comedian  was  obliged  to  wear  the  "  holey  " 
shoes  of  his  friend  "  Sol,"  while  "  Sol "  himself  (a  wiser,  if  not  a 
sadder,  man)  was  obliged  to  walk  about  in  a  pair  of  dilapidated 
slippers  furnished  by  the  liberality  of  the  steamboat  captain. 

Some  time  after  this,  while  Gilbert  was  travelling  with  an- 
other company,  he  came  into  Memphis,  Tennessee,  late  in  the 
evening ;  and  seeing  by  a  flaming  handbill  that  "  the  only 
original  and  inimitable  '  Sol '  Smith  "  was  to  play  that  night, 
he  determined  to  renew  his  friendship  with  him.  Entering 
the  hall  indicated  by  the  bill,  he  found  it  well  filled  with  peo- 
ple, and  saw  Smith  on  a  stage  raised  only  a  few  inches  from 
the  floor,  in  the  midst  of  what  was  apparently  a  most  interest- 
ing scene.  At  the  same  moment  "Sol"  noticed  his  old  com- 
panion, and  without  the  slightest  hesitation  walked  off  the  stage 


184  Twelve  Americans. 

and  into  his  arms,  whispered,  "  Me  friend,  I'll  finish  this  in 
short  order,  then  we'll  drink,"  went  back  on  the  stage,  was  as 
good  as  his  word,  finished  his  scene  in  a  hurry,  and  went  out 
with  Gilbert  to  talk  over  the  incident  of  the  lost  boots,  and 
curse  what  he  called  the  tenacity  of  the  Vicksburg  mud. 

They  were  a  jolly  set,  those  travelling  actors  of  the  olden 
time ;  and  in  his  company  "  Sol "  Smith  had  more  than  one 
character  who  was  quite  as  much  of  an  original  as  he  was  him- 
self. His  "  first  old  man  "  was  an  exceedingly  eccentric  person, 
named  Anderson — a  good  actor,  but  a  terrible  grumbler.  He 
aspired  to  play  leading  tragedy  roles,  but  never  made  his  way 
out  of  a  strolling  troupe ;  reviled  the  fates  in  consequence, 
drank  a  little  more  than  was  good  for  him,  and  was  generally 
"crushed"  and  at  war  with  the  world.  Mr.  Anderson's  meth- 
ods were  as  peculiar  as  he  was  eccentric.  He  was  never  known 
to  study  a  part,  but,  being  an  actor  of  the  olden  school,  was 
letter-perfect  in  nearly  every  role  in  his  line  which  then  found 
favor  with  the  people.  He  seldom  attended  rehearsals,  but  in 
the  evening  would  stalk  into  the  theatre  with  the  question, 
"Ah,  by-the-way,  what  is  the  order  of  the  day  for  to-night?" 

Being  told  what  play  was  to  be  produced,  he  would  immedi- 
ately declare  that  it  was  "  a  mass  of  rubbish,"  but  when  the 
time  came  was  always  ready  to  fill  his  part,  Frequently  he 
was  obliged  to  play  two  parts  on  the  same  evening,  as,  for 
instance,  an  old  family  servant  and  a  hard-drinking  country 
squire.  When  informed  what  was  required  of  him  he  would 
first  ease  his  mind  by  the  exclamation, 

"Ah,  of  course — double  work,  as  usual!"  and  then,  "Well, 
if  it  must  be,  I  suppose  it  must.  Let  me  see :  I  will  paint  for 
the  menial." 

Quickly  he  was  "  made  up  "  for  that  part ;  and  when  it  was 
time  for  him  to  "go  on"  as  the  squire,  with  the  words,  "A 
le-e-tlc  more  red  for  the  drunkard,"  he  would  rub  his  nose  in 
the  rouge-box,  dust  it  off  with  his  hand,  and  was  ready. 


For  Fifty  Years  cm  Actor.  185 

It  sometimes  happened  that  Mr.  Anderson,  after  indulging 
somewhat  too  freely,  would  become  slightly  "mixed"  in  re- 
gard to  the  part  he  was  playing.  Upon  such  occasions — and 
they  were  much  rarer  than  might  be  imagined — he  almost  in- 
variably repeated  the  first  speech  of  Sir  Peter,  in  the  "  School 
for  Scandal,"  and  by  the  time  he  had  finished  it  had  collected 
himself,  understood  his  cue,  and  went  on  with  his  part. 

As  it  is  perhaps  needless  to  state,  the  audiences  of  the 
South-western  border  States  were  not  very  critical  fifty  years 
ago  ;  and,  being  easily  pleased  themselves,  they  expected  actors 
and  actresses  to  be  at  least  equally  so.  In  those  days  all  long 
journeys  in  the  South  were  made  on  the  rivers,  and  the  incon- 
veniences and  discomforts  to  which  travelling  theatrical  com- 
panies were  subjected  can  with  difficulty  be  imagined  in  these 
days  of  railways  and  palace-cars. 

Upon  one  occasion  a  company  to  which  Mr.  Gilbert  was  at- 
tached had  an  engagement  to  play  in  Nashville,  and  to  get  to 
that  place  were  obliged  to  go  up  the  Cumberland  River.  Em- 
barking on  one  of  the  primitive  steamboats  of  the  time,  every- 
thing went  comparatively  well  with  them ;  and  they  were  just 
beginning  to  anticipate  a  speedy  termination  to  their  journey, 
when  suddenly,  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  the  boat  stopped 
with  a  shock. 

"  What  new  calamity  hath  now  befallen  us  ?"  asked  "  the 
heavy  man,"  who  happened  to  be  a  particularly  dismal  person ; 
and  Mr.  Gilbert — always  a  great  deal  more  practical  than  many 
of  his  companions — tumbled  out  of  his  berth  to  see  what  had 
happened.  He  found  that  the  boat  had  stuck  fast  on  a  sand- 
bank, and  as  the  river  was  falling  it  was  soon  announced  that 
there  was  "  no  hope  of  getting  her  off."  There  was  only  one 
way  out  of  the  difficulty :  the  passengers,  with  some  of  the 
freight,  would  have  to  be  transferred  to  a  flat-boat,  and  on  it 
conveyed  up  the  river. 

The  next  morning  at  daybreak  this  course  was  taken.     An 


1 86  Twelve  Americans. 

open  flat-bottomed  boat  was  found  near  by,  the 'company  went 
on  board,  a  long  line  was  made  fast  to  the  bow,  then  run  over 
the  shoulders  of  a  dozen  negro  deck-hands,  and  they,  up  to  their 
waists  in  water,  slowly  and  painfully  hauled  the  boat  up  the 
river.  Several  of  Mr.  Gilbert's  light-hearted  male  companions 
seemed  to  enjoy  their  position  hugely.  The  boat  progressed 
so  slowly  that  they  had  frequent  opportunities  of  wading 
ashore  to  visit  the  taverns  which  were  reached  at  intervals, 
and,  making  the  best  of  a  bad  bargain,  were  apparently  well 
contented.  Not  so  the  ladies.  They,  with  Miss  Jane  Placide 
— the  sister  of  Henry  and  Thomas  Placide,  and  a  very  fine 
actress — at  their  head,  bemoaned  their  hard  fate  unceasingly. 
And  they  were,  indeed,  to  be  pitied.  The  seats  provided  for 
them  were  most  uncomfortable,  their  food  was  anything  but 
inviting,  and  the  most  tempting  stimulant  which  the  captain 
had  to  offer  was  a  "  toddy  "  of  corn-whiskey.  In  spite  of  all 
these  difficulties,  however,  they  might  have  borne  up  with 
something  like  resignation,  but  as  the  day  advanced  the  rays 
of  the  fierce  Southern  sun  glared  down  upon  them  unmerciful- 
ly. They  could  find  no  shelter  anywhere ;  they  were  threat- 
ened with  freckles  and  sunburn — their  complexions  would  be 
ruined !  This  was  more  than  human  nature,  particularly  fem- 
inine and  theatrical  human  nature,  could  bear,  and  they  were 
all  on  the  verge  of  mutiny,  when  suddenly  some  one  exclaimed, 

"  I  have  an  idea  !" 

"  What  is  it  ?"  asked  Miss  Placide. 

"  Let's  powder  our  faces !"  was  the  reply  ;  and  "  Yes,  yes ; 
let's  powder  them  thickly  !"  was  echoed  on  all  sides.  They  did, 
indeed,  lay  on  the  chalk  in  the  most  extravagant  fashion,  so 
saving  themselves  from  sunburn,  and  were  comparatively  hap- 
py. After  three  days  and  nights'  travelling  in  the  way  de- 
scribed the  company  reached  Nashville. 

It  was  during  this  period  in  his  career  that  John  Gilbert  first 
became  a  manager.     He  had  been  playing  through  Kentucky 


For  Fifty  Years  an  Actor.  187 

with  a  small  company,  and  toward  the  end  of  the  season,  busi- 
ness being  bad,  the  gentleman  who  had  charge  of  the  venture 
determined  to  abandon  it.  Several  members  of  the  troupe, 
thus  thrown  upon  their  own  resources,  went  to  Gilbert — who 
was  known  to  have  saved  a  few  dollars — and  proposed  that 
they  should  go  to  Shelbyville,  Kentucky,  and  give  a  perform- 
ance under  his  management.  He  consented,  believing  that  the 
undertaking  would  prove  a  profitable  one ;  and,  after  some  dis- 
cussion, it  was  decided  that  a  then  very  popular  play,  which  re- 
joiced in  the  title  of  "  The  Gambler's  Fate,"  should  be  present- 
ed. The  principal  scene  in  the  drama  represented  the  gam- 
bler seated  in  a  backwoods  cabin,  which  suddenly,  without 
rhyme  or  reason — after  the  manner  of  stage  houses — was  to 
take  fire,  enveloping  the  hero  in  flames.  Gilbert  and  his  com- 
panions determined  that  this  scene  should  be  particularly  real- 
istic, and  on  the  morning  before  the  performance  went  into 
the  woods  around  Shelbyville  and  cut  a  number  of  logs,  out  of 
which  they  constructed  a  very  substantial-looking  hut. 

When  night  came  on  it  was  evident  that  they  were  to  be  re- 
warded for  their  trouble.  The  people  of  the  town  flocked  to 
the  little  theatre  in  crowds,  and  it  was  soon  filled  to  overflow- 
ing. The  curtain  rose,  and  the  first  act  was  a  great  success. 
The  second  was  equally  so.  Then  came  the  third  act,  and 
what  had  been  previously  announced  as  "  the  thrilling  specta- 
cle of  the  cabin  in  flames."  This  act  also  progressed  smoothly. 
The  gambler  appeared  in  the  lonely  hut  which  had  been  pre- 
pared for  him,  he  spoke  his  lines  to  the  evident  satisfaction  of 
himself  and  every  one  present,  and  then,  at  the  right  moment, 
the  cotton,  saturated  with  spirits -of -wine,  which  had  been 
stuck  into  crevices  in  the  logs,  was  deftly  ignited  by  the  stage- 
manager.  It  blazed  up  harmlessly,  and  the  fire  was  about  to 
go  out  as  stage  fires  should  do,  when  suddenly  the  cheers  of 
the  audience  were  changed  to  shouts  of  consternation. 

"  Fire  !  fire  !"  was  shouted  from  every  part  of  the  house,  and 


1 88  Twelve  Americans. 

it  really  did  seem  as  if  the  whole  stage  was  in  flames.  The 
amateur  backwoodsmen,  in  cutting  the  logs  for  their  cabin,  had 
neglected  to  chop  off  the  light  twigs ;  they  had  ignited  from 
the  cotton,  and  were  blazing  furiously. 

A  panic  seized  the  people.  They  were  not  to  be  restrained. 
It  was  useless  to  assure  them  that  there  was  no  danger.  They 
rushed  pell-mell  from  the  hall ;  but,  fortunately,  no  one  was 
hurt.  The  light  twigs  soon  burned  out  harmlessly,  and  John 
Gilbert's  first  experience  as  a  manager,  and  the  first  recorded 
attempt  at  realism  on  the  American  stage,  came  to  an  end. 

IV. 
RECOLLECTIONS  OF  GREAT  ACTORS. 

After  five  years  of  the  roving  life  described,  John  Gilbert — ■ 
empty-handed,  but  with  a  light  heart  and  a  growing  reputation 
for  conscientiousness  and  hard  work — embarked  on  a  sailing- 
vessel  at  New  Orleans,  and,  without  adventure,  arrived  in  Bos- 
ton. After  visiting  his  relatives  and  spending  a  quiet  week  or 
two  at  home,  he  began  to  look  about  him  for  employment,  but, 
finding  none,  was  on  the  point  of  returning  to  the  South,  when, 
while  walking  on  the  street  one  day,  he  met  George  Barrett — 
"  Gentleman  George  " — at  that  time  a  favorite  actor,  who  knew 
something  of  his  capabilities,  and  by  him  was  introduced  to 
"  Tom  "  Barry,  the  manager  of  the  Tremont  Theatre.  Soon 
after  he  was  engaged  by  Mr.  Barry  to  play  old  men's  parts,  his 
salary  for  the  first  season  being  eighteen  dollars  a  week.  He 
remained  in  this  position  for  five  years,  witnessing  the  intro- 
duction of  many  improvements  in  stage-setting,  appointments, 
and  scenery,  and  playing  with  the  elder  Booth,  Forrest,  Ham- 
blin,  James  W.  Wallack,  Sr.,  Cooper,  Ellen  Tree,  Tyrone 
Power,  Charlotte  Cushman,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Keeley,  and  other 
eminent  actors  and  actresses  of  the  time. 

Mr.  Gilbert's  recollections  of  all  his  old  associates  are  still 


For  Fifty  Years  an  Actor.  1 89 

very  vivid,  and  he  speaks  of  all  those  mentioned — excepting, 
perhaps,  Mr.  Forrest — not  only  with  great  admiration  but  with 
something  very  much  akin  to  affection.  Some  of  the  anec- 
dotes which,  on  very  rare  occasions,  he  can  be  induced  to  tell 
of  their  peculiarities  are  most  amusing.  The  elder  Booth — in 
regard  to  whom  Mr.  Gilbert  believes  much  that  is  untrue  and 
exaggerated  has  been  written — is  the  chief  figure  in  one  of  the 
best  of  these  stories. 

The  play  was  "  Richard  III.,"  and  at  an  early  hour  the  thea- 
tre was  filled  almost  to  suffocation.  It  was  almost  time  for 
the  curtain  to  rise,  and  Booth  was  not  in  the  house.  Messen- 
gers were  sent  in  all  directions,  but  still  he  was  nowhere  to  be 
found.  The  minute-hand  went  round  the  dial  of  the  green- 
room clock  with  what  seemed  to  the  anxious  watchers  to  be 
extraordinary  rapidity;  the  manager  was  in  despair;  but  still 
Booth  did  not  come.  At  last  it  was  time  to  ring  up  the 
curtain,  and,  just  as  the  stage-manager  was  about  to  go  before 
the  audience  and  announce  that  an  unforeseen  accident,  and 
all  that  sort  of  thing,  would  make  it  necessary  to  postpone 
the  performance,  the  back-door-keeper  cried  out,  "  Here's  Mr. 
Booth !" 

"Where?  where?"  asked  a  dozen  voices  at  once. 

"  Here,  at  the  door,"  was  the  reply ;  and  in  a  moment  the 
attention  of  every  one  on  the  stage  was  directed  to  the  back 
entrance. 

It  was  true,  the  great  actor  was  there,  but  in  anything  but 
a  proper  condition  to  play  Richard  III.  In  fact,  he  was  so 
drunk — "  unwell,"  Mr.  Gilbert  charitably  calls  it — that  he  was 
not  able  to  stand  on  his  feet.  Still,  the  manager  seized  upon 
him  with  glad  hands  —  the  elder  Booth  drunk  was  worth  a 
score  of  other  actors  sober — and  he  was  hastily  taken  to  his 
dressing-room.  There  everything  possible  was  done  to  revive 
him.  His  head  was  bathed  with  eau  de  Cologne,  he  was  rub- 
bed with  bay-rum,  and  at  last  was  so  much  recovered  that  it 


190  Twelve  Americans. 

was  possible  to  slip  him  into  the  habiliments  of  the  hunchback 
Richard.  Then  the  curtain  was  rung  up,  and  Booth  was  pushed 
on  the  stage.  The  magnetism  of  the  great  crowd  revived  him, 
as  was  nearly  always  the  case  when  he  was  "  unwell."  By 
a  great  effort  he  collected  his  thoughts,  saw,  from  the  finery 
which  he  had  on,  that  he  was  to  play  Richard,  and  went  on 
with  his  part.  All  went  well  during  the  first  scenes,  and  the 
manager  and  leading  members  of  the  company  were  just  con- 
gratulating themselves  upon  what  they  believed  to  be  the  hap- 
py outcome  of  what  might  have  been  a  serious  difficulty,  when 
suddenly  Booth  gave  signs  of  again  collapsing.  There  was  no 
help  for  it,  however — they  must  go  on  with  the  play. 

John  Gilbert,  who  was  playing  the  sick  King  Edward,  made 
his  entrance  with  the  Queen,  Dorset,  Rivers,  Hastings,  and  the 
rest,  and,  as  usual,  was  conducted  to  a  couch  in  the  middle  of 
the  stage.  Then,  after  a  few  speeches  by  the  King  and  other 
characters,  it  was  time  for  Richard's  entrance. 

As  Buckingham  spoke  the  line,  "And  in  good  time  here 
comes  the  noble  Duke,"  Booth  was  pushed  on  the  stage ;  but 
for  once  his  wit  failed  him.  He  could  not  keep  upon  his  feet, 
and,  instead  of  making  the  speech  beginning,  "  Good-morrow 
to  my  sovereign  King  and  Queen,"  he  staggered  over  to  where 
Gilbert,  as  the  King,  was  reclining,  looked  at  him  for  a  mo- 
ment, and,  winking  one  eye  good-humoredly,  said,  in  a  tone 
audible  to  most  of  the  audience, 

"  Get  up,  John,  and  let  me  lie  down." 

Of  course,  the  scene  closed  amid  great  confusion  and  shouts 
of  laughter,  and  the  play,  so  far  as  Mr.  Booth  was  concerned, 
was  at  an  end. 

An  incident  somewhat  similar  to  this,  Mr.  Gilbert  relates  in 
regard  to  an  actor  of  the  olden  school,  named  Foote.  This 
gentleman,  when  he  was  sober,  was  a  valuable  addition  to  any 
company ;  but,  like  a  great  many  other  valuable  men  on  the 
stage  at  that  time — men  of  a  class  now  seldom  met  with — he 


For  Fifty  Years  an  Actor.  191 

would  sometimes  drink  more  than  his  legs  could  carry.  One 
evening,  when  in  this  condition,  he  came  into  the  theatre  and 
announced,  just  as  the  curtain  was  going  up,  that  he  had  not 
been  able  to  learn  his  part,  but  that  he  was  sure  he  could  read 
it  correctly,  if  the  audience  wrould  allow  him  to  do  so.  In  de- 
spair the  stage-manager  went  before  the  curtain,  stated  that 
Mr.  Foote  had  been  too  unwell  to  learn  his  part,  and  asked  if 
the  ever-generous  public,  etc.,  would  bear  with  him  while  he 
read  it.  The  "ever-generous  public,"  represented  by  the  gal- 
lery boys,  consented  to  bear  with  him,  and  the  play  com- 
menced. When  it  was  time  for  Foote  to  go  on,  however,  he 
suddenly  discovered  that  he  could  not  see  to  read,  and  wildly 
called  for  a  pair  of  spectacles.  Again  the  stage-manager — who 
seems  to  have  been  a  rather  innocent  sort  of  person — advanced 
to  the  foot-lights  and  asked  if  Mr.  Foote  might  wear  his  specta- 
cles while  reading  his  part.  The  occupants  of  the  gallery,  who 
were  particularly  good-humored,  cried,  "Yes,  yes,  let  him  have 
his  spectacles  !"  and  the  manager  bowed  his  thanks  and  retired. 
But  still  Foote  was  not  satisfied.  lie  declared  that  the  spec- 
tacles were  not  enough ;  that  no  gentleman  could  be  expected 
to  strain  his  eyes  in  the  dim  light  of  the  stage,  darkened  as  it 
would  be  during  his  scenes;  and  in  all  earnestness  he  vowed 
that  he  would  not  read  his  part  unless  he  was  allowed  to  do 
so  by  the  light  of  a  candle.  This  was  more  than  even  the 
easy-going  stage-manager  could  bear,  and  the  curtain  was  rung 
down,  while  arrangements  were  made  to  supply  Foote's  place. 

The  elder  Booth,  as  Mr.  Gilbert  remembers  him,  was  one  of 
the  most  gentle  and  good-tempered  of  men.  Unlike  many 
leading  actors,  he  alwa}7s  had  a  kind  word  for  the  most  insig- 
nificant members  of  the  companies  with  which  he  played,  and 
was  ever  ready  to  excuse  their  blunders.  An  incident  will  il- 
lustrate the  latter  trait  in  his  character.  He  was  playing  Sir 
Edward  Mortimer,  in  "  The  Iron  Chest " — one  of  his  greatest 
parts — to  an  immense  audience,  and  was  just  on  the  point  of 


192  Twelve  Americans. 

delivering  the  most  effective  speech  -which  occurs  in  the  play, 
when,  by  a  mistake  of  one  of  the  minor  characters,  he  was 
obliged,  to  make  sense  of  the  scene,  to  slur  it  over  and  go  on 
without  delivering  the  speech  in  question.  When  the  curtain 
fell  the  young  man  -who  had  made  the  mistake  stood  in  fear 
and  trembling,  fully  expecting  that  the  lightest  punishment 
which  could  come  to  him  would  be  an  instantaneous  dismissal 
from  the  theatre.  He  was  mistaken.  Mr.  Booth,  in  passing 
him,  said,  simply,  "You  were  not  very  clear  in  that  scene.  Try 
to  do  better  another  time."     That  was  the  end  of  the  matter. 

Very  different  would  have  been  Edwin  Forrest's  manner 
of  referring  to  such  an  offence.  The  unfortunate  being  who 
chanced  to  "cut  him  out  of  a  scene,"  as  the  theatrical  phrase 
is,  would,  during  the  remainder  of  the  great  man's  engagement, 
find  his  life  a  burden.  Mr.  Gilbert  is  not  alone  in  believing 
that  Forrest  was  not  only  a  truly  wonderful  actor,  but  a  bully 
and  a  coward.  It  is  a  matter  of  record  that  on  one  occasion, 
in  the  Tremont  Theatre,  he  tormented  a  little  fellow  one-third 
his  size  almost  to  madness ;  but  when  the  young  man  at  last 
turned  upon  him,  with  a  Eoman  sword  from  the  "  property- 
room,"  swearing  to  take  his  life,  he  fled  to  his  dressing-room 
in  the  wildest  alarm,  and  did  not  again  emerge  until  the  dan- 
ger, if  any  there  was,  had  passed. 

Upon  another  occasion,  while  Mr.  Gilbert  was  stage-manager 
of  the  Tremont  Theatre,  one  of  the  stock-company,  a  sensitive 
young  man,  during  a  rehearsal  became  so  frightened  and  con- 
fused by  Forrest's  bullying  directions  and  abuse  that  he  forgot 
his  lines.  "When  the  rehearsal  was  over  Forrest  went  to  Mr. 
Gilbert,  complained  bitterly  of  the  young  man,  and  asked,  why, 
in  the  name  of  Hades,  he  could  not  have  better  support. 

"  Mr.  Smith  knows  his  part  well,  and  can  play  it  well," 
replied  Gilbert,  coolly. 

"Knows  his  part,  sir!  knows  his  part!  Damn  it,  sir,  he 
can't  remember  a  line  of  it !"  thundered  Forrest. 


For  Fifty  Years  an  Actor.  193 

"  You  frightened  it  out  of  his  head." 

"  I  frighten  him  !     How,  sir,  how  ?'• 

"By  abusing  and  badgering  him,"  answered  Gilbert,  his 
blood  getting  warmer.  "If  you  had  not  interfered  Avith  him 
there  would  have  been  no  trouble.  Let  him  alone,  and  he  will 
play  the  part  to-night  as  well  as  it  can  be  played." 

This  proved  to  be  the  case,  and  from  that  time  forward 
Mr.  Forrest  had  no  more  complaints  to  mate  to  stage-manager 
Gilbert. 

In  money-matters  the  great  actor  is  said  to  have  been  close 
and  grasping  to  a  degree  which  thoroughly  disgusted  the 
warm-hearted,  open-handed  men  and  women  who  were  his 
associates  on  the  stage.  At  the  end  of  one  short  engagement 
at  the  Tremont  Theatre  his  share  of  the  receipts  amounted  to 
$4000 ;  and,  though  the  managers  lost  by  their  contract  with 
him,  and  for  the  moment  were  unable  to  pay  the  stock-com- 
pany, he  exacted  the  prompt  payment  of  the  last  penny  which 
was  his  due.  The  money  was  handed  over  to  him,  a  few  odd 
dollars  being  in  rolls  of  twenty-five  cent  pieces,  and  he  left  the 
box-office.  Half  an  hour  afterward  he  returned  with  one  of 
these  rolls,  and,  taking  a  piece  of  silver  from  it,  said  to  the 
treasurer,  in  his  own  peculiarly  pompous  manner,  "This  quar- 
ter, sir,  which  you  have  given  to  me,  is  not  good." 

"What's  the  matter  with  it?"  asked  the  treasurer,  curtly. 

"  It  has  worn  smooth,  sir,  and  the  people  at  the  bank  refuse 
to  take  it.     You  must  give  me  another  for  it." 

The  treasurer,  who  was  a  good  deal  of  a  wag,  handed  Mr. 
Forrest  a  bright  new  quarter,  took  the  worn  piece,  and,  with 
the  words,  "  I  wouldn't  sell  these  two  shillings  for  five  dollars," 
slipped  it  into  his  pocket.  That  night  the  story  of  "Forrest 
and  the  smooth  quarter"  was  known  all  over  Boston. 

In  marked  contrast  to  the  great  actor's  meanness  was  the 
reckless  generosity  of  the  comparatively  poor  men  attached  to 
the  stock-companies  which  supported  him.     At  one  time,  while 

0 


194  Twelve  Americans. 

in  Boston,  John  Gilbert,  John  Brougham,  and  one  or  two 
others  who  afterward  made  their  mark  were  playing  together. 
Business  being  bad,  and  their  salaries  much  in  arrear,  the  man- 
ager decided  to  withdraw  and  allow  them  to  conduct  the  estab- 
lishment on  the  share  system.  Gilbert,  Brougham,  and  the 
other  principal  people  in  the  company  agreed  to  this,  at  the 
same  time  pledging  themselves  to  pay  the  salaries  of  the  lesser 
members  of  the  troupe.  Under  this  arrangement  the  theatre 
went  on  for  a  week,  and  at  the  end  of  that  time  Mr.  Gilbert 
and  the  others  who  were  associated  with  him  in  the  manage- 
ment came  together  for  a  settlement.  First  they  paid  salaries 
as  agreed,  and  divided  the  money  which  remained  among  them- 
selves. Gilbert  received  for  the  services  of  himself  and  wife 
just  $3,  while  Brougham's  share  amounted  to  the  magnificent 
sum  of  87  cents  !  Walking  down  the  street  afterward,  "  genial 
John  Brougham"  invited  his  companions  into  a  tavern,  and, 
throwing  down  his  dimes  and  pennies  upon  the  counter,  cried 
out,  cheerily, 

"  There,  drink  it  up,  boys ;  we'll  trust  to  Providence  for  a 
fresh  instalment." 

At  this  period  of  his  professional  career  Mr.  Gilbert  began 
to  make  rapid  strides  toward  the  front  rank.  At  the  end  of 
a  five  years'  stay  in  Boston  he  went  to  New  York,  and  in  the 
old  Bowery  Theatre,  then  one  of  the  best-appointed  establish- 
ments in  the  country,  played  Sir  Edward  Mortimer,  in  "  The 
Iron  Chest,"  and  other  characters  of  equal  importance.  Then 
he  returned  to  Boston,  accepting  a  leading  position  in  the 
Tremont  Theatre,  under  the  direction  of  J.  S.  Jones,  who  was 
at  once  doctor,  actor,  manager,  and  dramatic  writer.  Here  he 
remained  until  1842  or  1843,  when  the  old  Tremont,  the  scene 
of  his  early  struggles  and  later  triumphs,  was  sold  to  a  church 
society.  On  the  first  night  after  the  change  an  admission  fee 
was  charged,  and  the  house  filled  by  people  who  wanted  to  see 
what  alterations   had  been  made  in  the  old  building.     They 


For  Fifty  Years  an  Actor.  195 

found  it  as  it  had  been ;  but  on  the  stage,  instead  of  actors  and 
actresses,  known  as  such,  a  large  company  of  Christian  people 
—  ministers,  Sunday-school  workers,  and  others  —  had  assem- 
bled. Religious  services  followed,  the  ceremonies  commencing 
with  the  hymn,  "Lord,  let  these  ransomed  Avails  rejoice." 

How  "the  ransomed  walls"  felt  about  the  change  does  not 
appear;  but  the  church  society  failed  to  make  their  theatrical 
house  of  worship  a  financial  success,  and  it  again  changed 
hands,  becoming  a  lecture  and  concert  hall. 

After  the  close  of  the  Tremont,  Mr.  Gilbert  went  to  the 
National  Theatre,  in  Boston,  achieving  marked  success  in  old 
English  comedy  parts,  and  a  year  or  two  afterward  went  to 
England,  not  with  any  intention  of  acting,  but  for  the  purpose 
of  seeing  the  country  and  learning  some  of  the  methods  of  the 
best  English  comedians.  Still,  he  took  his  stage  wardrobe  with 
him,  on  the  principle  that  a  man  who  goes  out  in  a  boat  should 
have  with  him  tackle  to  catch  fish,  and  he  had  not  been  long 
in  London  before  he  realized  the  wisdom  of  this  course.  Saun- 
tering aimlessly  past  the  Princess's  Theatre  one  day,  he  met  the 
stage-manager,  Mr.  Walton,  whom  he  had  known  well  in  former 
years,  and,  after  some  conversation,  was  invited  into  the  theatre 
to  see  the  manager.  The  result  of  the  interview  which  follow- 
ed was  that  he  was  engaged  to  play  a  round  of  his  favorite 
characters.  He  was  announced  to  open  as  Sir  Robert  Bram- 
ble, in  "  The  Poor  Gentleman,"  and  on  the  evening  of  his  first 
appearance  went  to  the  theatre  very  nervous  and  excited.  The 
announcement  that  his  only  acquaintance  in  the  establishment, 
stage-manager  Walton,  had  suddenly  died  that  day,  did  not 
tend  to  reassure  him,  and  he  went  to  his  dressing-room  greatly 
fearing  that  he  would  be  too  ill  to  appear.  Still,  exerting  all 
his  energy,  he  managed  to  dress  and  carefully  "  make  up  "  for 
his  part,  and  when  he  was  called  was  ready  to  go  on.  As 
he  walked  before  the  foot -lights,  however,  he  suddenly  felt 
his  knees  giving  way;   his   nerves  were   unstrung,  his  hands 


196  Twelve  Americans. 

cold,  clammy,  wet;  his  month  hot  and  parched — his  wits  had 
flown  to  the  four  winds.  Old  and  experienced  actor  though 
he  was,  he  had  an  unmistakable  attack  of  stage-fright.  For  a 
moment  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  he  must  drop  down  with  shame 
and  mortification ;  but  at  last,  by  a  great  effort,  he  recovered 
himself,  and  left  the  stage  at  the  end  of  his  scene,  to  receive 
the  congratulations  of  several  prominent  English  actors,  who 
had  been  critically  watching  him  from  the  wings,  and  fully 
assured  that  he  had  achieved  a  great  success. 

Frequently  since  that  first  night  before  a  London  audience 
Mr.  Gilbert  has  had  such  violent  attacks  of  stage-fright  that  he 
has  for  several  moments  been  unable  to  speak  his  lines.  To 
this  day  he  never  goes  on  the  stage  in  a  new  character  or  on 
an  opening  night  without  fear  and  trembling.  Nearly  every 
other  prominent  actor  in  this  and  other  countries  has  had  the 
same  experience.  Devricnt,  the  eminent  German  tragedian, 
was  particularly  subject  to  stage-fright ;  the  great  Macready 
was  irritable  and  nervous  as  an  old  maid  when  on  the  stage, 
and  could  not  be  talked  to  or  even  looked  at  on  a  first  night; 
while  our  own  Lawrence  Barrett,  when  behind  the  scenes,  is  so 
much  occupied  with  the  work  in  hand  that  he  can  with  diffi- 
culty be  brought  to  recognize  his  intimate  friends. 

V. 
IX  LONDOX  WITH  MACREADY  AND  CHARLOTTE  CUSHMAN. 

Mr.  Gilbert's  debut  at  the  Princess's  Theatre  was  so  suc- 
cessful that  he  was  engaged  for  the  entire  season  which  fol- 
lowed, playing  leading  old  men's  parts  in  the  English  comedies, 
and  supporting  Macready  and  Charlotte  Cushman.  Regarding 
Macready  he  speaks  with  much  kindness  and  admiration,  pro- 
nouncing many  of  the  stories  which  are  told  of  his  eccentric- 
ities to  be  manufactured  out  of  the  whole  cloth  or  grossly 
exaggerated.     Still,  that  the  great  actor  was  at  times  exceed- 


For  Fifty  Years  an  Actor.  197 

ingly  unreasonable  cannot  be  denied.  The  following  incident 
may  give  some  idea  of  his  peculiar  temper. 

While  at  the  Princess's  Theatre,  during  Mr.  Gilbert's  en- 
gagement, he  was  playing  Richelieu  to  a  crowded  house,  and 
seemed  to  be  in  a  particularly  good  humor  for  him.  All  went 
well  until  the  scene  in  which,  while  the  Cardinal  is  seated  at 
one  side  of  the  stage,  Joseph  goes  to  a  door  at  the  other,  and, 
opening  it,  announces,  "  Marion  Delorme."  Mr.  Gilbert  was 
playing  the  part  of  Joseph,  and  at  the  proper  time  went  to  the 
door,  opened  it,  and  made  the  announcement,  standing  aside  to 
allow  the  actress  who  was  playing  the  part  of  Marion  to  enter. 
She  did  so,  staggered  across  the  stage  to  where  Macready  was 
waiting  for  what  he  made  one  of  his  great  scenes,  and  dropped 
at  his  feet  so  limp  and  powerless  from  drink  that  she  could  not 
speak  a  word. 

With  a  look  of  mute  appeal  to  the  "  flies,"  and  the  ejacu- 
lation, "Great  Heaven  !  what  have  I  done  to  deserve  this?"  he 
slowly  rose  from  his  chair,  and  the  curtain  fell.  As  it  did  so 
Macready,  still  enacting  the  part  of  an  old  and  feeble  man, 
even  after  he  was  out  of  sight  of  the  audience,  tottered  feebly 
to  his  feet,  looked  at  the  prostrate  actress,  and  muttering, 
"  Beast !  Beast  I"  still  with  the  shaking  limbs  of  Richelieu, 
walked  slowly  off  the  stage  to  his  dressing-room. 

Then  there  was  an  uproar  in  the  theatre.  The  occupants  of 
the  pit  cheered,  the  people  in  the  galleries  shouted ;  and  the 
stage-manager,  at  his  wits'  end,  went  to  "  the  star  dressing- 
room,"  and,  knocking  timidly,  called, 

"  Mr.  Macready  !  Mr.  Macready  !" 

"  Well,  sir ;  well  ?  What  is  it  ?"  came,  in  slow  and  meas- 
ured tones,  from  the  dressing-room. 

"  I  want  to  know  what  we  are  to  do,  sir,"  wailed  the  un- 
fortunate stage-manager. 

"  Do,  sir — do  ?  How  the  devil  do  I  know  what  you  are  to 
do?     It  was  not  I  who  made  Marion  Delorme  drunk." 


198  Twelve  Americans. 

"  Bat,  if  you  please,  Mr.  Macready,  won't  you  go  on  the 
stage  again  ?" 

"  Of  course  I  will ;  of  course  I  am  here  to  do  my  duty,  but 
I  must  have  a  sober  Marion  Delorme.  Don't  stand  there  whim- 
pering now,  but  get  me  a  Marion  Delorme !"  And  straightway 
the  manager  rushed  to  find  some  one  who  could  play  the  part. 
At  last  he  succeeded.  Macready  was  induced  to  take  his  seat 
on  the  stage.  The  curtain  rose.  Gilbert  announced  "Marion 
Delorme,"  and  the  "old  woman"  of  the  company  —  very  fat 
and  very  ugly,  who  could  have  played  Mother  Frochard  to  the 
life — tramped  across  the  stage  to  the  Cardinal. 

Macready  looked  at  her,  raised  his  shaking  hands  to  the  flies, 
and  groaned  aloud ;  but  she  was  sober,  knew  her  lines,  and  he 
went  on  with  the  play. 

Another  of  Mr.  Gilbert's  recollections  of  the  Princess's  The- 
atre is  very  amusing.  J.  W.  Wallack  was  playing  Don  Caesar 
de  Bazan,  one  of  his  famous  characters,  and  was  just  begin- 
ning his  best  scene,  when  a  very  seedy-looking  old  gentleman, 
who  had  a  seat  near  the  stage,  rose,  and,  with  much  ado  but- 
toning his  threadbare  black  coat  about  him,  was  on  the  point 
of  leaving  the  theatre,  when  AVallack,  half  annoyed  and  half 
amused  at  the  stir  which  the  old  fellow  was  making,  stepped 
to  the  foot-lights  and,  addressing  him,  said, 

"  Don't  be  in  a  hurry  ;  the  performance  is  not  yet  over." 

To  which  the  old  gentleman,  not  at  all  disconcerted,  in  a 
broad  Scotch  accent  replied, 

"  I  ken  that  verra  weel,  but  I've  had  a'  I  can  stan'  o't,"  and 
then,  amid  shouts  of  laughter,  marched  out  of  the  theatre. 

During  Charlotte  Cushman's  engagement  at  the  Princess's 
Theatre  the  manager  (whom  she  had  offended  in  some  way) 
said  to  Mr.  Gilbert  one  evening,  "  I  am  going  to  serve  your 
countrywoman  out  to-morrow  night."  "What  he  meant  Gil- 
bert did  not  know,  but  he  went  at  once  to  Miss  Cushman,  and 
warned   her  that  something   which   would   displease  her  was 


For  Fifty  Years  cm  Actor.  199 

going  to  be  done  by  the  manager.  She,  like  himself,  was  at 
a  loss  to  know  how  he  could  annoy  her ;  but,  on  looking  at 
the  theatrical  announcement  the  next  morning,  they  saw  what 
was  intended.  There,  in  black  and  white,  it  appeared  that  the 
evening's  entertainment  at  the  Princess's  would  commence, 
instead  of  ending,  with  a  farce;  and  that  then,  when  the  half- 
price  hour  had  arrived,  "  Miss  Charlotte  Cnshman,  the  great 
American  actress,"  would  appear  in  "  Romeo  and  Juliet."  Al- 
most beside  herself  with  indignation,  Miss  Cnshman  rushed  to 
her  contract.  But  there  was  no  help  for  it:  she  must  play 
at  any  time  during  the  evening  which  the  management  might 
please  to  select. 

The  night  came;  and  the  manager  found  himself  "hoist  by 
his  own  petard."  The  farce — for  which  the  full  admission  fee 
was  charged — was  played  to  empty  benches ;  but  after  the  fall 
of  the  curtain,  when  the  half-rate  hour  commenced,  and,  ac- 
cording to  the  announcement,  Miss  Cushman  would  appear, 
the  people  began  to  pour  into  the  theatre  in  crowds.  Seeing 
what  was  going  on,  the  adroit  American  delayed  the  com- 
mencement of  her  performance,  until  at  last,  when  she  went 
upon  the  stage,  she  was  greeted  by  the  cheers  of  such  a  mul- 
titude as  had  seldom  thronged  a  London  play-house.  Subse- 
quently the  manager  apologized  to  her,  and,  by  a  mutual  un- 
derstanding, she  played  after  the  farce  for  several  nights,  at- 
tracting immense  audiences,  and  earning  a  great  deal  of  money 
for  herself  and  the  theatre. 

While  in  England  Mr.  Gilbert — fully  agreeing  with  Charles 
Kemble,  who  once  said  to  him,  in  his  solemn  fashion,  "  We 
can  never  hope  to  be  perfect  in  our  art,  sir:  I  never  go  to  a 
theatre  that  I  do  not  learn  something" — lost  no  opportunity 
of  seeing  the  best  actors  in  London. 

He  was  a  frequent  visitor  at  the  Haymarket,  and  witnessed 
many  performances  by  Mathews,  Buckstone,  Mrs.  Glover,  Ma- 
dame Vestris,  Mrs.  Nesbitt,  and  others  of  like  renown,  who,  in 


200  Tivelve  Americans. 

his  opinion,  formed  a  company  the  equal  of  which  was  never 
seen  before  or  since.  Before  returning  to  America  he  also  vis- 
ited Paris,  and  spent  considerable  time  in  studying  the  French 
school.  He  believes  that  as  an  actor  he  was  greatly  improved 
by  his  stay  abroad,  and  he  attributes  much  of  the  very  mark- 
ed success  which  he  has  since  achieved  to  his  close  study  of 
the  English  comedies  as  they  were  played  in  the  Hay  market 
Theatre. 

Arriving  in  New  York  after  his  European  trip,  Mr.  Gilbert 
secured  an  engagement  at  the  old  Park  Theatre,  under  the 
management  of  Hamblin,  and  remained  there  till  the  burning 
of  the  house,  in  1848.  It  was  his  duty  to  recite  "the  tag"  in 
"  Naval  Engagements,"  the  last  piece  performed  before  the  fire, 
and  consequently  he  had  "  the  last  word  "  on  the  stage  of  "  the 
old  Park."  Subsequently  he  went  for  the  second  time  to  the 
Bowery  Theatre,  and  was  playing  there  when  the  memorable 
Forrest-Macready  disturbances  occurred.  On  the  night  of  the 
culminating  riot  in  Astor  Place  he  happened  to  be  "  out  of  the 
bill " — or,  in  other  words,  disengaged — and,  going  home  to  his 
supper,  met  an  acquaintance,  who  invited  him  to  go  to  the  As- 
tor Place  Theatre  and  see  Macready  play  Macbeth.  He  con- 
sented ;  but  when  they  arrived  in  the  neighborhood  of  the 
theatre  they  found  the  streets  so  blocked  with  people  that 
they  were  unable  to  enter  by  the  front-door,  and  were  obliged 
to  make  their  way  in  through  the  stage-entrance.  Once  in  the 
auditorium,  they  found  it  three-quarters  rilled  with  an  audi- 
ence made  up,  for  the  most  part,  of  the  "roughest"  and  most 
lawless  men  in  New  York.  They  had  all  come  there,  as  there 
was  only  too  much  reason  to  believe,  at  Edwin  Forrest's  in- 
stance, to  hoot  and  insult  Macready.  All  the  windows  of  the 
theatre  were  boarded  up ;  the  heat  was  intense,  and  the  noise, 
confusion,  and  excitement  beyond  description.  Many  friends 
advised  Macready  not  to  go  on  the  stage,  but  he  was  not  to 
be  driven  from  his  purpose ;  he  felt  that  he  had  a  right  to  ap- 


For  Fifty  Years  an  Actor.  201 

pear,  and  he  was  determined  to  do  so,  at  no  matter  what  risk 
to  himself.  At  last  the  curtain  rose,  and  there  was  profound 
silence  while  the  minor  characters  spoke  their  lines  ;  but,  as  Mr. 
Gilbert  remembers,  the  moment  Macrcady  stepped  upon  the 
stage  the  red-shirted  bullies  in  the  pit  and  galleries  set  up  a 
wild  yell  of  disapprobation,  which  was  echoed  by  their  com- 
panions on  the  outside,  and  was  continued  at  frequent  inter- 
vals during  all  the  time  Macbeth  was  on  the  stage.  When  he 
left  it  order  was  in  a  moment  restored,  and  when  he  re-ap- 
peared the  mad  confusion  broke  out  anew.  He  was  hooted, 
hissed,  abused,  and  threatened ;  rotten  apples,  potatoes,  and 
other  foul  things  were  thrown  upon  the  stage;  but,  with  a 
daring  which  was  almost  superhuman,  Macrcady  went  on  with 
his  part,  speaking  every  line  with  as  much  force,  rounding  ev- 
ery sentence  with  as  much  nicety,  as  if  he  were  playing  to  a 
convention  of  eminent  and  respectable  dramatic  critics.  One 
of  the  improvised  shutters  which  had  been  nailed  to  the  win- 
dows of  the  theatre  was  torn  off,  and  a  stone  from  the  street 
came  crashing  through  the  great  glass  chandelier  which  hung 
in  the  middle  of  the  building,  scattering  splinters  in  every  di- 
rection, and  adding  to  the  dire  confusion.  But  still  Macrcady 
played  on.  A  volley  of  musketry  was  heard  in  the  street,  and 
still,  undisturbed,  he  played  his  part.  Then,  for  a  moment, 
there  was  a  lull ;  the  mob,  after  shouting  itself  hoarse,  had 
stopped  to  take  breath ;  and  the  fine,  rich  voice  of  the  actor, 
high  above  all  the  confusion,  clear  and  sonorous,  was  heard — 
with  double  significance  —  crying,  "Our  castle's  strength  will 
laugh  a  siege  to  scorn  !" 

Ashamed  of  themselves,  the  crowd  of  ruffians  for  an  instant 
caught  the  spirit  of  the  situation  and  cheered  the  man  who  so 
bravely  defied  them.  But  it  was  only  for  an  instant.  Then 
the  hisses  were  renewed,  and  continued  to  the  end  ;  Macready 
all  the  while  going  on  with  his  part,  and,  according  to  those 
who  were  with  him  on  the  stage,  speaking  all  his  lines  as  dis- 

9* 


202  Twelve  Americans. 

tinctly  and  with  as  much  care  as  if  the  people  were  giving 
him  their  hest  attention.  Then  there  was  another  volley  of 
musketry  outside — the  militia  were  firing  on  the  rioters — and 
in  the  midst  of  "  confusion  worse  confounded"  the  play  ended, 
and  Macready,  guarded  hy  the  police,  left  the  theatre. 

Mr.  Gilbert  and  his  friend  also  managed  to  find  their  way 
out  in  safety,  being  sternly  awakened  to  the  danger  they  were 
escaping  by  encountering  on  the  threshold  of  the  theatre  the 
bleeding  body  of  a  man  shot  through  the  brain — dead.  Dur- 
ing all  that  terrible  night,  in  the  course  of  which  dozens  of 
persons  were  killed  and  wounded,  Edwin  Forrest  was  safe  in 
the  Broadway  Theatre,  from  time  to  time  receiving  bulletins 
which  kept  him  fully  informed  of  the  progress  of  the  riot. 

VI. 
"THESE   LATTER  DAYS."— IN  WALLACE'S   THEATRE. 

After  his  second  engagement  at  the  Bowery  Theatre,  dur- 
ing which  he  met  Lester  Wallack  and  J.  W.  Wallack,  Jr.,  Mr. 
Gilbert  went  to  Philadelphia,  where  he  remained  for  five  years, 
a  great  favorite  with  the  public.  Then  he  went  to  the  New 
Boston  Theatre,  under  Thomas  Barry's  management,  and  on 
the  first  night  recited  the  opening  address.  He  continued  to 
play  in  Boston  until  the  panic  of  1857,  when  "the  New  Bos- 
ton "  was  closed,  because  of  bad  business.  Then  he  returned 
to  Philadelphia,  remaining  there  until  1862,  when  he  joined 
the  company  at  Wallack's  Theatre,  in  New  York  City,  and 
during  the  years  which  followed  continued  to  endear  himself 
to  the  patrons  of  that  establishment. 

Regarding  the  manager  with  whom  it  was  his  fortune  to  be 
associated  during  most  of  this  time,  Mr.  John  Lester  Wallack, 
there  has  long  existed  a  number  of  popular  errors.  It  has 
been  stated,  for  instance,  that,  while  he  could  act  a  gentleman 
on  the  stage,  he  was  very  far  from  sustaining  the  character  in 


For  Fifty  Years  an  Actor.  203 

private  life.  This,  according  to  his  intimates,  is  a  mistake. 
Again,  it  has  for  many  years  been  the  popular  belief  that  he 
was  born  in  England.  This  was  not  the  case.  He  first  saw 
the  light  in  New  York,  in  the  year  1821. 

This  statement  he  himself  has  made.  So  far  as  the  theatri- 
cal profession  is  concerned,  he  is  the  last  of  his  family.  After 
his  birth  he  remained  two  months  in  America,  and  then,  with 
his  father,  the  great  Wallack,  sailed  for  England.  There,  not 
wishing  him  to  go  "upon  the  boards,"  Mr.  Wallack  gave  his 
son  a  liberal  education,  intending  that  in  due  course  he  should 
enter  the  army.  The  young  man  did,  in  fact,  pass  an  exami- 
nation for  his  commission,  and,  at  the  age  of  twenty-two,  was 
about  to  sail  for  India  in  the  Queen's  service,  when,  discover- 
ing that  many  young  men,  his  juniors  by  several  years,  held 
rank  superior  to  that  which  he  could  hope  for  in  the  army,  he, 
at  the  earnest  solicitation  of  his  mother,  relinquished  the  idea 
of  embracing  a  military  career.  His  father  was  in  a  position 
to  provide  for  him  liberally,  but  he  determined  to  make  his 
own  way  in  the  world.  The  path  to  success  which  seemed 
most  readily  open  to  him  was  the  stage,  and,  without  consult- 
ing any  of  his  family,  he  resolved  that  he  would  become  an 
actor.  He  had  an  hereditary  claim  to  histrionic  greatness.  His 
father,  James  W.  Wallack,  was,  as  has  been  said,  a  shining  light 
in  "  the  profession."  His  uncle,  Henry  Wallack,  and  the  lat- 
ter's  son,  James  W.  Wallack,  Jr.,  were  also  in  their  day  and 
way  great  men.  Associated  by  blood  with  such  renowned  act- 
ors, lavishly  gifted  by  Nature's  hand,  the  young  man  brought 
to  his  debut  a  commanding  figure  and  a  face  of  no  common 
beauty  —  a  face  which,  in  the  fineness  of  its  cast,  was  in  his 
youth  frequently  likened  to  Byron's.  He  had,  beyond  all 
this,  an  easy  grace  of  manner,  a  quick  apprehension  of  ef- 
fect, a  rich,  melodious  voice,  capable  of  producing  marked  re- 
sults without  "mouthing"  or  strain.  In  addition,  as  the  event 
proved,  he  had  an  eye  for  artistic  effect,  both  in  grouping  and 


204  Twelve  Americans. 

in  color,  which  was  destined  to  stand  him  in  good  stead.  With 
these  attributes  he  went  to  Dublin,  in  his  twenty-fourth  year, 
intending,  of  all  things  in  the  world,  to  play  Irishmen  and  low 
comedy  character  parts — his  desire  being  to  endeavor  to  attain 
a  position  such  as  that  which  Tyrone  Power  held.  His  first 
appearance  was  in  Dublin,  the  part  which  he  assumed  being 
that  of  Don  Pedro,  in  "  Much  Ado  About  Nothing." 

With  varying  fortune  Mr.  Wallack,  or  "  Mr.  John  Lester,''  as 
he  was  then  called,  continued  to  play  in  Ireland  and  England 
until  the  season  of  1847— '48,  when  he  came  to  America  under 
the  management  of  John  Barnett,  and  "  opened "  in  the  old 
Broadway  Theatre  as  Sir  Charles  Coldstream,  in  "  Used  Up." 
He  was  well  received,  and  so  commenced  his  successful  career 
in  Xew  York. 

During  his  second  season  at  the  Broadway  Theatre,  "William 
Rufus  Blake,  a  bluff  old  fellow,  who  was  reputed  to  be  the  best 
Sir  Anthony  Absolute  on  the  stage,  was  manager,  and  under 
his  direction  the  theatre  rapidly  lost  money.  Mr.  Blake  was  a 
grand  actor  and  a  genial  old  gentleman,  but  did  not  have  the 
tact  requisite  for  management.  One  morning,  when  his  ex- 
chequer was  at  its  lowest  ebb,  the  old  actor  came  to  Wallack 
and  surprised  him  with  the  exclamation, 

"See  here,  Mr.  Lester:  everything  is  going  to  the  devil,  sir. 
You  will  have  to  save  the  theatre  !" 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  How  can  I  do  it,  Mr.  Blake  V  asked 
Wallack. 

"You  will  have  to  play  melodrama,  sir." 

"Melodrama!''  echoed  the  young  actor.  "I  never  played  a 
melodramatic  part  in  my  life." 

"That  does  not  matter,  sir;  that  does  not  matter,"  growled 
the  manager.  "  You  have  got  to  appear  in  this  new  piece, 
'  Monte  Cristo,'  or  we  must  close  the  house." 

There  was  no  help  for  it.  In  fear  and  doubt  Wallack  con- 
sented. 


For  Fifty  Years  an  Actor.  205 

The  piece  was  first  produced  on  Christmas-night ;  the  house 
was  full ;  much  money,  scraped  together  by  hook  or  by  crook, 
had  been  expended  on  the  scenery  and  costumes.  Wallack, 
stimulated  to  his  best  exertions,  called  out  all  the  latent  melo- 
dramatic talent  which  he  bad  inherited  from  his  father,  and 
the  play  at  once  became  a  pronounced  artistic  as  well  as  pecu- 
niary success.  The  "handsome  John  Lester's"  picture,  in 
Monte  Cristo  costume,  was  displayed  in  the  drawing-rooms  of 
half  the  houses  in  town ;  the  women  raved  about  him  and 
voted  him  "  charming,"  "  splendid,"  and  all  that  sort  of  thing. 
The  men  applauded  his  acting,  and  after  a  time  "  Monte  Cristo 
hats,"  "Monte  Cristo  shawls,"  and  Monte  Cristo  what-nots 
were  advertised  and  sold  by  shop-keepers  everywhere.  There 
was  for  the  time  a  Monte  Cristo  craze.  The  play  ran  for  one 
hundred  nights,  its  success  being  up  to  that  time  unprece- 
dented in  America. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  following  season  Mr.  Hamblin,  man- 
ager of  the  Bowery  Theatre,  desiring  to  place  his  establishment 
on  a  par  with  the  Broadway  houses,  engaged  as  members  of  his 
company  James  W.  Wallack,  Jr.,  and  his  wife ;  John  Gilbert, 
and  "Mr.  John  Lester."  Here  it  was  that  the  latter  first  tried 
his  hand  at  authorship.  His  maiden  effort  was  an  adaptation 
of  Dumas' s  "  Three  Guardsmen,"  he  appearing  as  D'Artagnan, 
James  W.  Wallack,  Jr.,  as  Athos,  and  John  Gilbert  as  the  giant 
Porthos.  Subsequently,  at  the  request  of  Mr.  Hamblin,  he 
dramatized  the  sequel  to  the  "  Three  Guardsmen."  Both  plays 
were  successful. 

In  the  next  season  "Mr.  Lester"  became  a  member  of  the 
stock-company  at  Burton's  Theatre,  in  Chambers  Street ;  and 
then,  in  1851,  returned  to  England,  to  attend  the  great  World's 
Fair. 

Visiting  his  father  at  this  time,  he  urged  him  to  return  to 
America.  He  consented.  Soon  after  his  arrival  in  New  York 
he  conceived  the  idea  of  establishing  a  theatre  on  the  corner  of 


206  Twelve  Americans. 

Broadway  and  Broome  Street ;  and,  much  to  the  consternation 
of  his  friends,  who  assured  him  that  the  location  was  much 
too  far  up  town,  and  freely  predicted  his  complete  failure,  he 
established  on  that  site  a  theatre  which  for  many  a  year  was  a 
leading  temple  of  the  drama  in  the  American  metropolis.  From 
the  first  Mr.  Wallack's  idea  was  that  he  could  attract  his  pa- 
trons only  by  giving  them  the  very  best  possible  entertainment, 
and  to  do  this  he  brought  together  one  of  the  most  remarkable 
companies  ever  seen  in  a  New  York  theatre.  In  addition  to 
himself — a  great  favorite — it  included  William  Rufus  Blake, 
"John  Lester,"  Laura  Keene,  and  others  of  almost  equal  celeb- 
rity. From  the  commencement  the  new  enterprise — the  up- 
town theatre,  as  it  was  called — was  successful,  and  very  soon  it 
left  its  "down-town"  competitors  far  in  the  shade. 

One  of  the  greatest  successes  achieved  by  the  company  in 
those  days  was  in  a  play  founded  upon  one  of  Dumas's  novels, 
and  entitled  "Pauline;  or,  A  Night  of  Horrors."  "John 
Lester"  played  the  hero,  and  Laura  Keene  the  heroine.  The 
drama  called  for  a  great  deal  of  undemonstrative,  but  at  the 
same  time  powerful,  acting,  and  was  very  popular,  much  money 
being  earned  by  its  production.  As  an  evidence  of  how  much 
the  popular  taste  changes,  it  may  be  stated  that  in  1879,  at 
the  request  of  many  old  play-goers,  Mr.  Wallack,  in  most  elab- 
orate fashion  and  at  much  expense,  again  produced  this  play, 
under  the  title  of  "  Spell-bound  ;"  but,  instead  of  being  success- 
ful as  it  -was  originally,  it  fell  flat  upon  the  audience,  and  had 
to  be  withdrawn  after  a  few  representations. 

"While  in  Wallack's  old  theatre  "John  Lester"  again  turned 
his  hand  to  play-writing — "  The  Veteran,"  which  achieved  a 
great  success  in  those  days,  and  is  still  warmly  received,  being 
from  his  pen.  The  piece  was  founded  on  Grant's  novel,  "  The 
Queen's  Own."  The  Veteran  was  played  by  the  elder  Wal- 
lack, and  the  part  of  his  son  by  "John  Lester."  It  is  worthy 
of  note  that  at  the  end  of  the  first  performance,  in  response  to 


For  Fifty  Years  an  Actor.  207 

the  call  of  the  audience,  "Author !  Author !"  Mr.  Wallack  (the 
Veteran)  led  to  the  foot-lights  his  son  in  the  play,  who  was 
also  his  son  in  reality,  and  presented  him  to  receive  the  ap- 
plause of  the  house. 

With  varying-  success,  but  usually  much  favored  by  fortune, 
the  Wallacks  remained  in  the  old  theatre  until  the  commence- 
ment of  1861,  when,  just  as  the  war  was  about  to  break  out, 
the  old  manager  determined — greatly  against  the  advice  of  his 
friends,  as  before — to  establish  a  theatre  on  the  corner  of  Broad- 
way and  Thirteenth  Street.  He  had  his  own  way,  as  usual,  and 
on  the  first  night,  to  an  immense  audience,  spoke  the  opening 
address.  This,  however,  was  the  last  time  that  he  appeared  on 
his  own  boards,  or,  indeed,  upon  any  stage.  The  initial  piece 
was  called  "  The  New  President,"  although  it  had  no  reference, 
in  any  way,  to  the  then  recently-inaugurated  Chief  Magistrate, 
Mr.  Lincoln,  or  to  the  political  events  then  in  progress.  It  was 
not  a  success.  The  new  theatre,  however,  attracted  a  great 
deal  of  attention,  and,  from  the  first,  money  was  made  in  it. 
Upon  its  opening  "John  Lester,"  at  the  request  of  his  father, 
re-assumed  his  own  name  and  became  John  Lester  Wallack. 

During  1863  Mr.  Wallack  again  turned  his  attention  to 
authorship,  the  result  of  his  labors  being  the  ever -popular 
play,  "Rosedale."  The  way  in  which  he  conceived  the  idea 
of  writing  this  drama  is  worthy  of  mention.  He  was  at  a 
dinner-party  given  by  Thackeray,  and  at  which  were  present 
George  William  Curtis,  Bayard  Taylor,  the  poet-traveller,  and 
other  distinguished  men  of  letters.  One  of  the  company,  in 
the  course  of  conversation,  advanced  the  idea  that  no  play 
could  have  great  interest  for  the  public  unless  the  lovers 
in  it  were  young  people,  and  cited  as  an  example  the  fact 
that,  from  "  Romeo  and  Juliet "  on,  the  hero  and  heroine  in 
every  successful  drama  were  supposed  to  be  either  in  or  only 
just  out  of  their  teens.  Mr.  Wallack,  who  was  present,  opposed 
this  argument,  and  expressed  the  belief  that  a  play  could  be 


208  Twelve  Americans. 

produced  in  which  all  the  love-making  should  be  done  by- 
persons  of  mature  age,  and  that  it  would,  nevertheless,  attract 
attention  and  excite  deep  interest.  The  discussion  ended  here ; 
but  when  the  dinner  was  over  Mr.  Wallack  went  away  with  the 
fixed  resolve  of  putting  his  own  theory  to  the  test.  Shortly 
afterward,  while  reading  "  Lady  Lee's  Widowhood,"  a  novel 
by  Lieutenant-colonel  Hamley,  of  the  British  Royal  Artillery, 
he  thought  he  saw  in  it  the  germ  of  a  play.  Subsequently, 
however,  he  threw  it  aside,  and  made  "Rosedale"  an  entirely 
original  drama,  with  the  single  exception  that  the  incident  of 
the  abduction  of  the  child  was  taken  from  Hamley's  novel. 
The  new  play  was  one  of  the  greatest  successes  the  American 
stage  has  ever  known.  It  ran  for  one  hundred  and  thirty 
nights,  and  from  first  to  last  earned  for  its  author  and  others 
who  have  acted  the  leading  part  in  it  more  than  8100,000. 
That  it  has  proved  Mr.  AYallack's  theory  in  regard  to  the  age 
for  dramatic  lovers  and  love-making,  however,  is  rather  doubt- 
ful ;  for,  while  Elliott  Gray,  the  hero,  is  stated  in  the  early 
part  of  the  first  act  to  be  fully  forty  years  of  age,  and  Rosa 
Lee,  his  sweetheart,  is  supposed  to  be  nearly  thirty,  Matthew 
Lee  nearly  forty,  and  Lady  May  a  widow,  with  a  child  several 
years  old,  there  is  no  question  of  the  fact  that  the  audiences 
who  witness  the  performance  ignore  the  minute  details  of  the 
text  (as  theatre-goers  are  apt  to  do)  and  regard  Elliott  Gray  as 
a  dashing  young  man,  Rosa  as  a  very  charming  young  girl  just 
blushing  into  womanhood,  Lady  May  as  a  young  widow,  and 
Matthew  Lee  as  an  extremely  juvenile  bachelor. 

It  was  at  this  period  of  his  career — that  is,  soon  after  the 
production  of  "Rosedale" — that  Mr.  Wallack,  with  some  of  the 
other  managers  in  Xew  York,  John  Gilbert,  and  a  number  of 
leading  citizens,  took  a  prominent  part  in  the  memorable 
benefit  performances  which  were  given  in  aid  of  the  wounded 
of  both  the  Rebel  and  Union  armies,  and  which  netted  a  fund 
of  $40,000. 


For  Fifty  Years  an  Actor.  209 

In  recent  years  Wallace's  Theatre  lias  usually  been  conducted 
on  the  principle  of  alternating  new  plays  with  choice  examples 
of  the  old  standard  drama.  During  the  season  of  1874,  act- 
ing upon  this  principle  in  part,  and  to  a  certain  extent  in  the 
hope  of  making  a  sensation,  Mr.  Wallack,  by  producing  one 
of  Dion  Boucicault's  Irish  plays,  took  a  departure  which,  it 
was  predicted,  would  ruin  him,  but  which  actually  resulted  in 
a  great  success. 

One  day,  in  conversation  with  Boucicault,  lie  complained  of 
the  difficulty  he  found  in  catering  to  the  public  needs,  when 
the  latter  said  to  him, 

"You  want  to  continue  the  success  of  your  theatre.  I 
want  to  show  a  crowd  of  croakers  that  I  can  do  as  well  now 
as  I  ever  did  in  my  life.  Let  me  produce  an  Irish  drama  in 
your  house." 

"  I'll  do  it,"  replied  Wallack,  after  a  few  moments'  consider- 
ation ;  and  there  and  then  a  bargain  was  made  which  resulted 
in  the  production  of  "  The  Shaughraun,"  one  of  the  greatest 
dramatic  successes  of  modern  times. 

It  ran  for  many  weeks ;  and  in  the  following  season  "  For- 
bidden Fruit,"  one  of  the  most  successful  productions  of  1876, 
was  withdrawn  to  make  way  for  its  reproduction,  when  it  again 
ran  for  a  long  time  to  even  larger  houses  than  originally. 
During  the  first  season  one  hundred  and  eighteen  evening 
and  twenty-five  matinee  performances  of  "The  Shaughraun" 
were  given,  the  total  receipts  being  $220,076 — an  average  for 
each  of  the  evening  performances  of  more  than  $1600. 

After  the  second  "Shaughraun"  season,  in  1877,  casting 
about  for  some  new  attraction,  and  believing  that  interest  in 
the  regular  drama  was  waning,  Mr.  Wallack  conceived  the  idea 
of  producing  a  sensational  play,  with  elaborate  stage  accesso- 
ries, and  played  with  exceptional  ability.  At  great  expense 
he  produced  "  Diplomacy,"  believing  that  it  would  be  a  great 
and  lasting  success.     The  press    praised   it    with   unanimity, 


2IO 


Twelve  Americans. 


everybody  admitting  that  it  was  a  pleasing  performance ;  but 
still,  though  no  money  was  lost  by  the  enterprise,  very  little 
profit  accrued.  Returning  to  the  old  English  comedies  in  the 
season  of  1878-79,  and  playing  such  pieces  as  "  The  School  for 
Scandal,"  with  such  actors  in  the  cast  as  John  Gilbert,  Charles 
Coghlan,  and  Rose  Coghlan,  he  still  made  no  money.  In  1880, 
on  the  other  hand,  a  revival  of  the  old  comedies  was  most  suc- 
cessful, Mr.  Gilbert  appearing  in  most  of  them,  and  the  weekly 
receipts  averaging  $8000. 

During  their  career  as  managers  Mr.  Wallack  and  his  father 
have  had  in  their  companies  many  of  the  most  distinguished 
performers  who  have  appeared  in  this  country.  Among  them 
were  many  ladies  and  gentlemen  who,  in  any  other  establish- 
ment, would  have  insisted  upon  appearing  as  "stars,"  but  who, 
in  Wallack's  Theatre,  were  content  to  acknowledge  themselves 
as  members  of  the  stock- company.  Among  those  who  thus 
appeared  under  the  Wallack  management  may  be  named : 


James  W.  Wallack, 
Lester  Wallack, 
E.  L.  Davenport, 
James  W.  Wallack,  Jr., 
John  Gilbert, 
Charles  Mathews, 
William  R.  Blake, 
E.  Holland, 
Harry  Beckett, 
J.  H.  Stoddart, 
Frederic  Robinson, 
George  Holland, 
H.  J.  Montague, 
Charles  Coghlan, 
E.  A.  Sothern, 
John  Brougham, 
Dion  Boucicault, 
John  Sefton, 
Lysander  Thompson, 
Charles  Wolcott,  Sr., 
W.  R.  Floyd, 
Charles  Wyndham, 


Laura  Keene, 
Mrs.  F.  B.  Conway, 
Mrs.  Vernon, 
Madeline  Henriques, 
Mary  Gannon, 
Plessy  Mordaunt, 
Mrs.  Thomas  Barry, 
Miss  JeffreysJuewis, 
Miss  Ada  Dyas, 
Rose  Wood, 
Mrs.  Floyd, 
Mrs.  John  Hoey, 
Mrs.  W.  R.  Blake, 
Mrs.  Farren, 
Miss  Henrady, 
Mrs.  John  Sefton, 
Louisa  Moore, 
Mrs.  John  Gilbert, 
Madame  Ponisi, 
Effie  Germon, 
Rose  Coghlan, 
Mrs.  Dion  Boucicault. 


For  Fifty  Years  an  Actor.  211 

The  manner  in  which  Cbarles  Mathews  was  engaged  to  ap- 
pear in  the  regular  company  at  Wallack's  is  worthy  of  men- 
tion. It  was  in  the  season  of  1872-73,  while  the  veteran  com- 
edian was  playing  at  the  Fifth  Avenue  Theatre,  that  he  came 
to  Mr.  Wallack  and  said, 

"  Wallack,  I  want  an  appearance  at  your  theatre." 

"But  you  know  we  never  'star'  people  at  our  house,"  re- 
plied the  manager. 

"I  don't  care.  I  want  to  appear,  and  I  am  willing  to  go 
on  in  your  regular  company.  Make  me  an  offer,"  persisted 
Mathews. 

"  Oh,  I  can't  do  that,"  said  the  manager.  "  How  much  do 
you  want?" 

"I  will  leave  it  entirely  to  you,"  replied  Mathews,  and  sub- 
sequently it  was  arranged  that  he  should  be  paid  £100,  or 
$500,  a  week.  This  salary  was  paid  him  for  a  number  of 
weeks  before  it  was  possible  to  give  him  an  appearance,  as  the 
successful  revival  of  "  The  Veteran "  was  then  holding  the 
boards.  When  that  play  was  withdrawn,  however,  Mr.  Mathews 
appeared  to  very  large  houses ;  and  it  is  memorable  that  in 
"London  Assurance"  he,  Lester  Wallack,  and  John  Gilbert 
appeared  together  on  one  stage. 

Farther,  in  regard  to  the  management  of  Wallack's  Theatre, 
it  is  of  interest  to  recall  the  manner  in  which  one  or  two  of 
the  more  prominent  people  recently  connected  with  the  com- 
pany were  engaged.  Harry  J.  Montague,  when  he  left  Eng- 
land, had  the  reputation  of  being  a  rising  young  actor,  and,  by 
the  advice  of  his  friend  Boucicault,  he  did  not  at  once  engage 
himself  to  any  manager.  The  day  he  landed  in  New  York 
Boucicault  met  him  and  took  him  on  board  Mr.  Wallack's  yacht, 
the  Columbia.  The  manager  and  the  young  actor  were  much 
pleased  with  each  other,  and  after  dinner,  at  Boucicault's  re- 
quest, they  made  an  engagement  to  have  a  conversation  in  re- 
gard to  business  on  a  subsequent  day.    That  conference  resulted 


212  'Twelve  Americans. 

in  the  engagement  of  Montague  by  Wallack.  The  part  of 
Captain  Molyneux,  in  "The  Shaughraun,"  was  written  express- 
ly for  him,  and,  as  is  well  known,  he  made  in  it  his  first  great 
success  in  this  country.  It  is  a  coincidence  that  while  on 
board  his  yacht,  the  Columbia,  in  the  cabin  where  he  first 
saw  Montague,  Mr.  Wallack  received  the  telegram  announcing 
the  young  actor's  untimely  death. 

It  has  long  been  erroneously  supposed  that  Madeline  Hen- 
riques,  who  was  for  so  long  a  time  a  leading  favorite  at  "Wal- 
laces Theatre,  attained  success  by  some  "  royal  road."  Such 
is  not  the  fact.  The  lady  in  question,  when  she  was  little  more 
than  a  child,  first  appeared  at  the  old  Wallack's  Theatre,  Broad- 
way and  Broome  Street.  This  was  in  1860.  From  that  time 
on,  little  by  little,  she  worked  her  way  up,  until  five  or  six 
years  later,  when  she  achieved  her  greatest  successes. 

Miss  Gannon  was  also  first  engaged  by  the  elder  Wallack,  and 
under  his  management  developed  until  she  was  regarded  as  the 
best  impersonator  of  arch  and  naive  comedy  parts  on  the  stage. 

It  has  frequently  been  remarked  that  one  of  the  chief 
charms  of  Lester  Wallack's  acting  is  the  exceedingly  cool 
manner  which  he  is  able  to  assume.  Those  who  know  him  in 
private  life  need  not  be  told  that  it  costs  him  no  effort  to 
display  that  which  is  inborn.  As  an  evidence  of  his  natural 
coolness  the  following  is  of  interest. 

A  few  years  ago,  while  he  was  playing  in  the  drama  of 
"  Home,"  and  just  after  appearing  in  the  disguise  of  Colonel 
White — having  in  the  scene  been  ordered  from  the  house  by 
his  father,  who  does  not  know  him,  and  while  repeating  the 
lines  of  his  part  expressing  disgust  at  this  treatment — a  num- 
ber of  persons  in  the  audience  shouted,  excitedly, 

"  Look  behind  you  !     Look  behind  you  !" 

Mr.  Wallack  turned  quietly,  and  noticed  that  on  the  stage 
mantel-piece  a  candle  had  burned  down  almost  to  the  socket, 
and  had  ignited  the  paper  which  was  wrapped  around  it.    This 


For  Fifty  Years  an  Actor.  2 1 3 

was  in  a  blaze,  and  a  curtain  which  hung  above  was  on  the 
point  of  taking  fire.  The  danger  was  imminent,  but  the  actor 
was  equal  to  the  occasion.  Without  the  least  show  of  excite- 
ment he  drew  the  candlestick  away  from  the  curtain,  held  it 
while  the  burning  wax  fell  fast  upon  his  unprotected  hand, 
and  all  the  time  continued  to  repeat  the  lines  of  his  part,  thus 
re-assuring  the  alarmed  audience.  When  the  danger  was  past, 
amidst  loud  applause  he  coolly  remarked — of  course  interpo- 
lating the  words — 

"Well,  the  'Governor'  has  turned  me  out  of  his  house,  for 
which  I  am  exceedingly  sorry ;  but  I  at  least  have  the  satisfac- 
tion of  knowing  that  I  have  been  instrumental  in  saving  the 
establishment  from  destruction  by  fire." 

In  the  season  of  1881-'82  Wallack's  Theatre  company  was 
moved  from  the  old  house  to  a  new  and  magnificently  ap- 
pointed establishment  on  the  corner  of  Broadway  and  Thir- 
tieth Street.  Here,  as  before,  the  veteran  John  Gilbert — 
"good,  genial  John"  —  continued  the  chief  favorite  of  the 
theatre-going  public.  Happily,  he  continued  to  act  and  think, 
despite  his  great  age,  with  all  his  old-time  force  and  ability. 

And  just  how  keen-witted  a  man  may  be,  even  in  his  sev- 
enty-second year,  is  well  illustrated  by  the  following  gem  of  a 
letter  written  by  the  old  player  in  response  to  a  request  that 
he  would  furnish  certain  reminiscences  for  publication  in  the 
Boston  Saturday  Evening  Gazette : 

"  Wallack's  Theatre,  New  York,  Dec.  25, 1SS2. 
"My  dear  Parker,  —If  you  had  requested  me  to  write  an  original  play 
— an  event  that  has  not  been  achieved  in  the  memory  of  the  oldest  inhab- 
itants, of  whom  I  am  one,  'more's  the  pity' — I  could  as  easily  have  com- 
plied with  your  desire.  It  has  never  been  in  my  way  to  write  or  contrib- 
ute to  the  columns  of  any  public  journal.  To  repeat  the  words  and  text 
of  other  people's  brains  has  been  my  constant  duty  for  many  a  long  year ; 
and  when,  on  the  occasion  of  a  benefit  or  any  meeting  of  friends,  I  have 
been  called  upon  for  a  speech  or  a  sentiment — '  D — n  that  word  !' — I 
have  always,  in  my  own  opinion,  made  a  mess  of  it.  Should  I  attempt  to 
give  a  reminiscence  of  the  old  Boston  stage,  it  would  be  a  tedious  tale,  and 


214  Twelve  Americans. 

not  very  complimentary  to  the  present  state  of  the  drama.  Xo  doubt  I 
am  by  many  called  an  old  fogy.  I  am  not  annoyed  at  the  term.  '  See- 
ing what  I  have  seen,  seeing  what  I  see,'  when  theatres  are  crowded  to 
witness  the  feeble  attempts  of  notorieties,  and  sterling  plays  by  talented 
and  experienced  artists  are  neglected,  the  stage  is  indeed  in  a  deplorable 
condition.  But  enough  of  this.  As  an  old  subscriber — one  of  the  oldest 
— I  am  happy  to  congratulate  you  on  the  longevity  and  excellence  of  the 
Gazette.  Its  principles  are  honorable.  Long  may  it  wave !  I  told  you 
that  writing  was  not  in  my  way. 

"  Very  sincerely,  your  friend,  John  Gilbert." 

The  amount  and  variety  of  the  work  done  by  Mr.  Gilbert 
during  bis  eventful  career  in  New  York  is  astonishing.  Some 
idea  of  its  extent  ma}"  be  gained  from  the  following  list  of 
the  principal  plays  and  characters  in  which  he  has  appeared  in 
Wallaek's  Theatre  :* 

Character.  Play. 

Sir  Peter  Teazle "  School  for  Scandal." 

Benjamin  Stout,  M.  P. .  )  „  jr  _      >, 

Sir  John  Vesey  (1878)  [" 

Old  Dornton "  Road  to  Ruin." 

Old  Hardy "  Belle's  Stratagem." 

Job  Thornberry "  John  Bull." 

Mr.  Solus "  Every  One  Has  His  Fault.-" 

Sir  Anthony  Absolute "  Rivals." 

Kit  Cosey "  Town  and  Country." 

Mr.  Yielding "  Bosom  Friends." 

Lord  Duberly "  Heir  at  Law." 

Major  Oakly "  Jealous  Wife." 

Sir  Abel  Handy "Speed  the  Plough." 

Kerr  Flamberry "  Central  Park." 

Lord  Ogleby "  Clandestine  Marriage." 

Andrew  Wylie "  Bachelor  of  Arts." 

Sir  Sampson  Legend "  Love  for  Love." 

Lord  William  Daventry "  Irish  Heiress." 

Don  Caesar "  Bold  Stroke  for  a  Husband." 

Sir  Francis  Wronghead "  The  Provoked  Husband." 

Mr.  Coddle "  Married  Life." 

Viscount  de  Champeville "  Ernestine." 

Doctor  Botherer "  Americans  in  Paris." 

*  For  this  important  and  interesting  list  I  am  indebted  to  the  careful 
and  painstaking  research  of  my  good  friend  Mr.  E.  A.  Dithmar. — H.  C. 


For  Fifty  Years  an  Actor.  2 1 5 

Character.  Play. 

Count  D'Oxenstein "  The  Youthful  Queen." 

Sir  Francis  Gripe "  The  Busybody." 

Lord  Pompley "  Blue  and  Cherry." 

Sir  Simon  Slack "  Spring  and  Autumn." 

Sir  Robert  Bramble  ....    "  Poor  Gentleman." 

Mr.  Thomas  Tompkins "  My  Noble  Son-in-Law." 

Dr.  Druggendraft "  Follies  of  a  Night." 

Tobias "The  Stranger." 

Antonio "  The  Wife." 

Lord  Danberry "To  Marry  or  Not  to  Marry." 

Miles  McKenna "  Rosedale." 

Twining  alias  Croker "  The  Fox  Chase." 

Mr.  Coddington "  Look  Before  You  Leap." 

Archbishop  of  Grenada "  The  Compact." 

General  Tarragon "  School  of  Reform." 

Sir  Richard  English "How  She  Loves  Him." 

Jabez  Sneed "  The  Wife's  Secret." 

Captain  Copp "Charles  the  Second." 

Uncle  John "  Uncle  John." 

Jesse  Rural "  Old  Heads  and  Young  Hearts.'' 

Adam  Greenleaf "  Game  of  Life." 

Master  Walter "The  Hunchback." 

Mr.  Felix  Fumer "  Laughing  Hyena." 

Goldthumb "  Time  Works  Wonders." 

Counsellor  Coridon  Foxglove "  Game  of  Love." 

Mr.  David  Damper "  Single  Life." 

Mr.  Simpson "  Simpson  &  Co." 

Captain  Channel,  R.N "  Prisoner  of  War." 

Khov "The  Serf." 

Sir  Solomon  Sadlife "  Double  Gallant." 

Frederic  the  Great "  King  and  Comedian." 

Justice  Greedy "  New  Way  to  Pay  Old  Debts." 

Paul  Lafont .  .  .  ."  Love's  Sacrifice." 

Dr.  Pungent "  Dreams  of  Delusion." 

Sir  Adam  Weir "  King  of  the  Commons." 

Asper  Manly "  Romance  and  Reality." 

Old  Crumbs. . , "The  Rent  Day." 

Colonel  Hardy "  Paul  Pry." 

Marquis  de  Rotondo "  Don  C<esar  de  Bazan." 

Isaac  Levi "  Never  Too  Late  to  Mend." 

Hardcastle "  She  Stoops  to  Conquer." 

Benoiton "  Fast  Family." 

Major  Price "Favorite  of  Fortune." 

Joe  Barlow "£100,000." 


216  Twelve  Americans. 

Character.  Play. 

Sir  Alexander  Skendryn.    "  Ours." 

Morrison "A  Dangerous  Game." 

Admiral  Franklin "  Sweethearts  and  Wives." 

Jeremy  Crow "  Meg's  Diversion." 

Mr.  Lilly  white "Forty  and  Fifty." 

Dr.  Dil worth "  Dr.  Dilworth." 

Baron  Tanderpotter "  Captain  of  the  Watch." 

Michael  Garner "  Dearer  than  Life." 

Dogberry "  Much  Ado  About  Nothing." 

Dr.Sutc'liffe "  School." 

Dr.  Brown "  Progress." 

Mr.  Dorrison "  Home." 

Don  Pedro "  The  Wonder." 

Sir  George  Thunder "  Wild  Oats." 

Sir  William  Fondlove "  The  Love  Chase." 

Herr  Karl  Hartmann "  War." 

Mr.  Miles  Aspen "  The  Nervous  Man." 

Old  Wilding '-The  Liar." 

Mr.  Seantlebury "  Randall's  Thumb." 

Fncle  Timothy "  Playing  with  Fire." 

Earthworm "  Game  of  Speculation." 

Colonel  Damas "  Lady  of  Lyons." 

Mr.  Moon "A  Xice  Firm." 

Gregory  Deerham "  John  Garth." 

Colonel  Delmar ''The  Teteran." 

Sir  Harcourt  Courtly "  London  Assurance." 

Mr.  Jonathan  Rumbelow "  Brother  Sam." 

Mr.  Ingot "  David  Garrick." 

Miles  Laglot "  Barwise's  Book." 

Marquis  de  Rosny  Latour "  Man  of  Honor." 

Horace  Mervyn "  Partners  For  Life." 

Dr.  Desmarets "  Romance  of  a  Poor  Young  Man." 

Father  Dolan "  Shaughraun." 

Sir  Solomon  Frazier,  K.C.B "  Overland  Route." 

Mr.  Percy  Pendragon "  Married  In  Haste." 

Magnus  Rounse "  Twins." 

Silas  Auldjo "  Marriage." 

Colonel  Howard "False  Shame." 

Professor  Tracy "Won  at  Last." 

Colonel  Harlowe "  Clarissa  Harlowe." 

Gottlieb  Weigel "My  Son." 

Brisemouehe "A  Scrap  of  Paper." 

Adam "As  You  Like  It." 

Father  Tom "The  Colleen  Bawn." 


For  Fifty  Years  an  Actor.  217 

Character.  Play. 

Frederich  Von  Helmich "  Child  of  The  State." 

Mr.  Butterscotch "  The  Guv'nor." 

Rev.  Arthur  Pennington "  Youth." 

Monroe  Quilton "La  Belle  Russe." 

Daniel  Jaikes "  Silver  King." 

Uncle  John "  The  Snowball." 

During  his  eventful  career  John  Gilbert  has  witnessed  many- 
changes  in  the  art  of  acting  and  much  progress  in  the  manner 
of  presenting  plays.  He  has  seen  the  flat-boat  of.  the  Cum- 
berland Kiver  and  the  lumbering  New  England  stage-coach 
changed  to  a  special  train  of  "  palace  cars."  He  has  seen  in 
place  of  the  single  "  exterior "  and  "  interior "  which  at  one 
time  constituted  the  chief  scenery  of  a  first-class  theatre  a 
series  of  solid  "  set  scenes  "  specially  prepared  for  one  play,  at 
a  cost  of  $1 5,000.  He  has  lived  to  see  the  salaries  of  "  lead- 
ing men"  increase  from  $30  to  $350  a  week,  and  to  know  the 
"leading  lady"  who  received  $175  a  Aveek  and  part  of  her 
wardrobe.  He  has  lived  to  see  "  our  best  society  "  so  meta- 
morphosed that,  instead  of  turning  up  their  aristocratic  noses 
at  "play-actors,"  the  young  women  of  that  "society"  are 
rushing  upon  the  stage  in  droves — in  ninety-nine  cases  out  of  a 
hundred  to  make  themselves  and  their  unfortunate  relatives 
miserable  for  life.  He  admits  that  great  progress  has  been 
made  in  his  profession,  but  contends  that  much  greater  prog- 
ress must  continue  to  be  made.  Those  who  know  him  best — 
those  who  know  how  faithful,  painstaking,  untiring,  and  con- 
scientious a  public  servant  John  Gilbert  has  been  —  will  join 
in  wishing  that  he  may  live  to  see  the  American  stage  as  he 
would  have  it. 

10 


The  Recollections  of  a  Veteran. 


ROBERT  C,  SCHENCK, 


The  Recollections  of  a  Veteran. 


ROBERT    C.  SCHENCK. 


EARLY   STRUGGLES. 

Of  all  the  men  in  this  country  who  have  won  distinction  by 
self-exertion,  energy,  and  hard  work  few  have  been  so  misrep- 
resented, abused,  and  misunderstood  on  the  one  hand,  or  ap- 
plauded, admired,  and  appreciated  on  the  other,  as  has  that 
sturdy  old  soldier  and  legislator,  Robert  C.  Schenck.  At  the 
same  time  it  can,  without  exaggeration,  be  said  that  no  other 
distinguished  citizen  of  his  day  has  performed  greater  or 
more  varied  public  service.  But  few  men  of  any  period  have 
taken  part  in  so  many  strange,  exciting,  and  varied  scenes. 
He  was  born  at  Franklin,  Warren  County,  Ohio,  in  October, 
1809.  His  father,  General  William  C.  Schenck,  having  emi- 
grated from  Huntington,  Long  Island,  was  one  of  the  earliest 
settlers  of  the  Miami  Valley.  At  the  time  in  question  the 
neighborhood  of  Franklin  was  a  wilderness.  Communication 
between  that  place  and  Dayton  was  had  by  an  Indian  trail  cut 
through  thickly-growing  forests.  It  took  days,  and  sometimes 
weeks,  to  make  the  journey.  Yet  the  boy  whose  earliest  rec- 
ollection was  of  this  mode  of  travel  lived  to  see  magnificent 
turnpike-roads  and  railways  diverging  in  all  directions  from  his 
native  place.  At  first,  when  a  line  of  coaches  was  established 
between  Dayton  and  Cincinnati,  it  was  regarded  as  quite  an 
event  to  go  and  return  from  one  place  to  the  other  in  three 


22o  Twelve  Americans. 

days.  Afterward,  when  the  time  of  mating  the  trip  was  re- 
duced to  two  days,  there  was  much  rejoicing.  Now  the  same 
journey  may  be  made  on  the  railroads,  which  rank  among  the 
finest  in  the  world,  in  an  hour  and  a  half. 

Very  early  in  life  Robert  C.  Schenck  gave  abundant  evi- 
dence of  that  ability  to  fight  hard  in  a  just  cause  which  after- 
ward made  him  famous  among  American  legislators.  His  tu- 
tor at  the  Latin  Grammar  School  in  Franklin,  which  he  attend- 
ed until  about  his  twelfth  year,  was  the  Reverend  Matthew 
Wallace,  a  man  of  very  fair  ability,  but,  like  only  too  many 
of  his  class,  of  a  hard,  unfeeling,  and  unsympathetic  nature. 
This  gentleman,  at  Christmas-time,  wishing  to  punish  his  schol- 
ars for  some  real  or  imaginary  offence,  declared  that  they 
should  have  no  holiday.  Naturally  enough  the  boys  regarded 
this  decision  with  unbounded  indignation,  and,  inspired  by 
two  or  three  bold  spirits,  Schenck  among  the  rest,  they  deter- 
mined to  resist  the  authority  of  the  school-master.  This  they 
did  by  so  effectually  nailing  up  the  doors  and  windows  of  the 
school-house  that  the  assistance  of  workmen  was  found  neces- 
sary to  reopen  them.  So,  despite  the  authority  of  their  cord- 
ially detested  teacher,  the  boys  were  enabled  to  enjoy  at  least 
a  portion  of  their  much-coveted  vacation.  When  the  school 
was  at  last  reopened,  however,  and  Mr.  Wallace  firmly  estab- 
lished in  his  elevated  seat,  it  was  evident,  from  his  grim  man- 
ner, that  some  of  the  young  rebels  would  have  to  pay  dearly 
for  the  affront  inflicted  upon  his  authority.  This  proved  to 
be  the  case.  xAiter  calling  the  little  company  to  order  on  the 
morning  in  question  the  pedagogue  at  once  began  to  question 
each  boy  in  turn  as  to  what  part  he  had  taken  in  locking  up 
the  school-house.  One  by  one  they  all  came  up  before  him, 
and,  with  that  innocent  expression  which  young  sinners  know 
so  well  how  to  assume,  each  in  turn  assured  him  that  they  knew 
absolutely  nothing  about  ''the  barring-out."  At  last,  with  a 
particularly  foreboding  aspect,  the  school-master  cried  out, 


The  Recollections  of  a  Veteran.  22 1 

"  Master  Schenck  will  come  to  the  desk."  And  immediate- 
ly a  firmly-built,  round-headed,  manly  little  fellow,  with  clear 
blue  eyes,  compressed  lips,  and  just  a  touch  of  defiance  in  his 
air,  walked  from  his  seat  to  the  teacher's  desk.  When  he  had 
arrived  there  Mr.  Wallace,  looking  sternly  at  him,  said, 

"Master  Schenck,  you  know  that  this  school -house  was 
nailed  and  barred  up,  and  my  authority  defied." 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  know  that,"  replied  Robert,  quietly. 

"  Well,  then,  what  I  want  you  to  tell  me,"  continued  the 
teacher,  "  is,  whether  or  not  you  took  any  part  in  the  outrage." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  whether  to  call  it  an  outrage  or  not, 
sir,"  answered  the  keen-witted  little  fellow,  without  moving  a 
muscle, "  but  if  you  mean  did  I  help  nail  up  the  school-house, 
why,  I  am  not  going  to  lie  about  it.     I  did  help." 

Upon  this  there  was  no  little  excitement  among  the  boys ; 
and  a  number  of  them,  fearing  that  Schenck  was  about  to  be- 
tray the  whole  plot,  turned  as  white  as  their  shirt-collars.  But 
they  did  not  know  the  boy  Mr.  Wallace  had  to  deal  with.  In 
answer  to  the  teacher's  repeated  questions  as  to  who  had  been 
engaged  with  him  in  nailing  up  the  doors  his  only  reply  was, 

"  I  can't  tell  you  that,  sir ;  it  wouldn't  be  fair." 

At  length,  thoroughly  out  of  patience,  the  master  seized  his 
heavy  ruler,  and,  shaking  it  at  the  boy,  said, 

"  Tell  me  who  your  companions  were,  sir,  or  I  will  whip  you 
within  an  inch  of  your  life." 

"  I  won't  tell.  You  may  whip  me  as  long  as  you  please," 
was  the  boy's  only  reply. 

The  master  took  him  at  his  word,  giving  him  such  an  un- 
merciful flogging  as  had  seldom  before  been  witnessed  in  an 
Ohio  school-house.  But  he  had  only  his  labor  for  his  pains. 
Young  Schenck  could  not  be  forced  to  tell  who  had  helped 
him  to  secure  the  Christmas  holiday. 

The  affair  created  much  excitement  in  the  neighborhood, 
and  it  being  understood  that  Robert  had  been  very  severely 


222  Twelve  Americans. 

injured,  great  indignation  was  expressed  by  the  pluck- loving- 
community.  Wallace  was  threatened  with  as  severe  a  beat- 
ing as  he  had  given  the  child ;  and  after  a  short  time,  the 
place  becoming  too  hot  to  hold  him,  the  reverend  tyrant  was 
obliged  to  break  up  his  school  and  seek  "  fresh  fields  and 
pastures  new."  It  may  be  mentioned  in  passing  that  the  boy 
who  had  instigated  and  really  been  the  leader  in  "  the  barring- 
out"  plot  stood  by  like  a  coward  and  saw  his  brave  little  com- 
panion receive  the  punishment  which  should  rightfully  have 
been  visited  upon  himself.  In  later  years  this  boy  became  an 
officer  in  the  United  States  service.  He  moved  prominently 
in  the  same  society  with  Schenck.  From  the  day  of  the 
beating,  however,  the  latter  refused  to  speak  to  or  recognize 
him. 

Fortunately,  young  Schenck's  school  life  was  not  to  con- 
tinue as  disagreeable  as  it  proved  under  the  mastership  of  the 
reverend  Wallace.  In  1824  he  entered  Miami  University,  at 
Oxford,  Ohio,  as  a  Sophomore,  and  after  three  years  of  hard 
study  he  graduated  with  the  first  honors  of  his  class.  At  this 
time,  however,  he  was  only  eighteen  years  of  age;  and  as  it  was 
thought  by  his  friends  that  he  was  too  young  to  take  up  a 
profession,  he  remained  in  the  university  three  years  longer,  as 
a  resident  graduate,  revising  his  studies,  and  having  free  access 
to  the  college  library,  which,  even  in  those  days,  was  an  exten- 
sive one.  Toward  the  latter  part  of  this  extra  term  he  began 
to  study  law ;  later,  after  leaving  the  university,  he  entered  the 
office  of  the  distinguished  legal  practitioner  "Tom"  Corwin, 
and  thus  commenced  with  that  gentleman  an  intimacy  which 
lasted  through  life.  In  his  twenty-first  year  the  young  man 
was  admitted  to  the  Bar ;  and  because  of  the  fact  that  he  was 
fatherless,  and  without  money  sufficient  to  support  himself  in 
a  large  city  while  waiting  for  practice,  he  determined  to  "  hang 
out  his  shingle"  in  some  small  town  near  Franklin,  the  home  of 
his  mother.     With  this  object  in  view  he  went  to  Dayton,  to 


The  Recollections  of  a  Veteran.  223 

consult  with  the  Hon.  Joseph  H.  Crane,  then  member  of  Con- 
gress from  that  district,  taking  with  him  a  sealed  letter  of 
introduction  from  Mr.  Corwin.  That  letter,  as  he  afterward 
learned,  greatly  to  his  surprise,  contained  so  nattering  an  ac- 
count of  himself  and  his  ability,  that  Judge  Crane,  needing  a 
young  partner,  at  once .  gave  him  a  share  in  his  business.  So 
the  boy  settled  in  Dayton,  where  he  was  destined  in  after- 
years  to  become  famous,  and  to  impart  something  of  his  own 
distinction  to  the  place  which  he  entered  so  humbly.  By  his 
connection  with  Judge  Crane  he  was,  of  course,  spared  the  or- 
dinary trial  of  hoping  against  hope  for  a  first  client ;  indeed, 
his  troubles  were  in  an  entirely  different  direction  —  he  had 
almost  more  work  than  it  was  possible  for  him  to  properly 
perform.  Shortly  after  he  had  settled  in  his  new  home  Judge 
Crane  went  to  Washington,  leaving  to  him,  young  and  inex- 
perienced as  he  was,  the  care  of  one  of  the  largest  practices  in 
Ohio.  The  responsibility  was  indeed  a  heavy  one;  but  Schenck 
was  equal  to  the  emergency,  and  acquitted  himself  with  such 
credit  as  to  well  deserve  the  applause  he  received  from  many 
older  lawyers.  His  circuit  at  this  time  included  ten  counties. 
Like  other  practitioners  he  was  obliged  to  do  all  his  travel- 
ling on  horseback,  over  the  roughest  of  roads,  and,  as  may  well 
be  imagined,  he  was  often  an  actor  in  scenes  characteristic  of 
the  primitive  condition  of  the  country. 

In  those  days  Allen  County,  Ohio,  had  just  been  formed, 
and  it  was  Mr.  Schenck's  fortune  to  attend  the  first  county 
court.  It  was  held  in  the  open  air,  under  a  beech -tree, 
the  judge  having  the  place  of  honor,  with  his  back  to  the 
trunk  of  the  tree,  while  the  members  of  the  Bar,  witnesses,  and 
jurymen,  together  with  a  large  sprinkling  of  spectators — many 
of  them  in  homespun  and  deerskin,  and  not  a  few  armed  with 
rifles  or  fowling-pieces — sat  upon  the  ground  or  stood  beside 
their  horses,  listening  attentively  to  the  proceedings. 

In  the  following  year  the  county  had  so  far  advanced  that 


224  Twelve  Americans. 

a  log-Louse  had  been  built  to  accommodate  the  court.  This 
building  was  of  two  stories ;  the  ground-floor  being  used  as  a 
whiskey-shop  and  grocery,  while  the  upper  one,  access  to  which 
was  by  means  of  a  ladder  from  the  outside,  served  as  a  hall  of 
justice.  The  attendants  upon  this  primitive  legal  establishment 
were  quite  in  keeping  with  their  general  surroundings.  This 
fact  may  well  be  illustrated  by  the  following  incident : 

Most  of  the  cases  tried  in  Allen  County  at  that  time  involved 
either  assaults  or  hog-stealing,  and  the  persons  accused  of  such 
crimes  seem  to  have  dealt  with  their  legal  advisers  in  a  fashion 
which  was  as  simple  as  it  was  direct.  One  day  during  the 
court  a  notorious  hog-stealer,  named  "Jerry"  Brockus,  dressed 
in  a  butternut  suit,  and  carrying  a  formidable- looking  rifle, 
tapped  Schenck  on  the  shoulder  and  said, 

"  I'm  going  to  be  tried  to-day  for  hog-stealing.  You've  got 
to  do  the  talking  for  me.  You've  got  to  do  the  best  you  can. 
I  am  willing  to  stand  fair  damages." 

The  young  lawyer,  well  knowing  the  kind  of  character  he 
had  to  deal  with,  struck  a  bargain  without  more  ado.  Subse- 
quently, in  a  direct  and  knock-down  style  of  argument,  well 
suited  to  the  time  and  place,  and  of  which  he  was  even  then 
master,  he  succeeded  in  convincing  the  jury  that  Brockus 
ought  to  be  acquitted,  and  they  gave  a  verdict  in  his  favor. 
After  this  action  had  been  taken  the  grateful  hog-stealer,  in  the 
fulness  of  his  heart,  came  to  his  successful  defender,  paid  him 
his  fee  twice  over,  and  at  the  same  time  whispered,  significantly, 

"  Schenck,  you're  a  regular  whaler.  Just  pocket  that  extra 
money,  and  be  ready  to  look  after  my  interests  in  future,  for 
of  course  they  will  have  me  up  again  at  the  next  court." 

It  is  noticeable  that  in  those  early  days  the  citizens  of  Ohio 
found  jury  duty  even  more  distasteful  than  it  now  is.  At  one 
court  a  jury,  being  locked  up  in  a  log-cabin  for  the  night,  made 
loud  demands  upon  the  sheriff  for  whiskey,  with  which  to  re- 
lieve the  tedium  of  their  confinement.     This  being  refused 


The  Recollections  of  a  Veteran.  225 

them,  they  succeeded  during  the  night  in  taking  the  roof  off 
the  cabin,  and  in  the  morning  half  of  them  were  found  so  very 
drunk  that  it  was  impossible  to  go  on  with  the  case  which  they 
had  been  summoned  to  decide. 


II. 

OHIO   POLITICS  IN   1840. 

Travelling  about  the  country  on  horseback,  and  having 
with  all  sorts  of  people  such  intercourse  as  that  described, 
young  Schenck — brave,  quick-witted,  strong  of  frame,  frank  and 
generous  in  his  manner,  and  always  ready  to  serve  a  friend  in 
distress — naturally  became  very  popular.  Indeed,  he  had  not 
been  practising  two  years  when  it  was  intimated  to  him  that  he 
could  have  any  reasonable  political  preferment  which  he  might 
desire ;  but  to  all  such  overtures  he  declined  to  listen,  being 
fully  determined  to  continue  to  work  hard  at  his  profession 
until  he  had  gained  a  competence  and  a  reputation  among 
lawyers.  Contrary  to  this  prudent  resolution,  however,  he  was 
induced,  in  1838,  to  become  a  candidate  for  the  Legislature. 
The  Whig  Party,  to  which  he  was  devoted  with  all  fidelity, 
was  in  trouble,  and  it  was  represented  to  him  that  the  popular- 
ity of  his  name  might  be  of  assistance  to  the  cause.  For  these 
reasons  he  accepted  the  nomination  which  was  tendered  him, 
and  made  an  active  personal  canvass.  Despite  every  effort  ho 
wras  defeated  by  a  small  majority.  Three  years  later  he  again 
consented  to  become  the  Whig  candidate  in  Montgomery 
County,  and  was  elected. 

By  this  time  he  had  become  known  throughout  his  portion 
of  the  State  as  one  of  the  ablest  public  speakers  in  it.  His 
style  was  particularly  noticeable  then,  as  in  after- years,  for 
conciseness,  clearness,  vigor,  and  power  of  invective.  There 
were  not  a  few  persons  who  held  that  in  all  these  qualities  he 
was  the  equal,  if  not  the  superior,  of  his  great  teacher  and 

10* 


226  Twelve  Americans. 

friend,  the  renowned  "Tom"  Corwin.  This  enviable  reputa- 
tion he  had  gained  principally  through  his  connection  with  the 
"log-cabin  and  hard-cider  campaign"  of  1840.  General  Harri- 
son, the  Whig  candidate  for  the  Presidency,  he  had  known  since 
his  boyhood,  the  son  of  that  gentleman  having  been  one  of  his 
closest  friends  at  school.  Occupying  this  relation  to  the  fami- 
ly, it  was  natural  that  he  should  take  more  than  ordinary  inter- 
est in  the  canvass,  and  it  gave  him  no  little  pleasure  to  receive 
an  invitation  from  Harrison  himself  to  take  the  stump  in  ad- 
vocacy of  the  Whig  cause.  With  the  General  and  many  other 
distinguished  speakers  he  attended  the  memorable  mass  meet- 
ing held  at  Fort  Meigs,  and  to  this  day  recalls  it  as  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  political  gatherings  the  country  has  ever 
known.  From  twenty-five  to  thirty  thousand  people  came  to 
attend  it.  They  rode,  walked,  and  drove  in  from  all  the  coun- 
try around,  and  camped  out,  lived  in  wagons,  and  slept  upon 
the  ground  as  they  could,  feeling  themselves  fully  rewarded 
for  all  their  trouble  by  the  speeches  of  their  candidate  and  his 
friends.  It  is  noticeable  that  General  Harrison,  though  a  small, 
spare,  thin-featured  man,  possessed  so  clear,  shrill,  and  pene- 
trating a  voice  that  he  could  easily  make  himself  heard  by  a 
crowd  of  many  thousand  people.  He  spoke  with  great  ease, 
being  particularly  happy  in  his  quotations  and  illustrations 
from  ancient  history. 

While  at  Dayton,  just  before  the  Fort  Meigs  meeting,  he 
sent  for  Mr.  Schenck  and"  said,  in  an  abrupt,  high-voiced  fash- 
ion peculiar  to  him, 

"  Mr.  Schenck,  I  want  you  to  travel  through  the  country 
with  me  as  one  of  my  '  palaver  men.' " 

"  I  am  afraid  I  won't  be  able  to  do  it,  sir,"  replied  the  young 
man.  "  My  law  business  is  particularly  heavy  just  now,  and  I 
don't  think  my  partner  will  let  me  off." 

"  I  can't  help  that— I  can't  help  that,"  said  Harrison,  impa- 
tiently.    "  Law  business  or  no  law  business,  I  want  you,  and  I 


The  Recollections  of  a  Veteran.  227 

must  have  you.  Your  services  will  be  of  great  benefit,  and  you 
should  arrange  for  the  trip  at  once." 

Thus  admonished,  Schenck  saw  his  partner,  the  distinguished 
Peter  Odlin,  and  for  three  weeks  afterward  made  the  canvass 
with  Harrison,  speaking  to  great  crowds  in  different  parts  of 
the  country.  After  this  trip  he  returned  to  Dayton  ;  but,  find- 
ing that  most  of  the  courts  were  closed  and  all  law  business 
practically  suspended,  because  of  the  political  excitement,  he 
again  went  into  the  canvass,  and  continued  to  make  almost 
daily  speeches  until  Harrison  was  elected.  After  the  inaugu- 
ration he  visited  the  new  President  at  Washington,  and  was 
offered  the  District  Attorneyship  of  Ohio.  He  declined  the 
office,  desiring  rather  to  remain  a  private  practitioner,  and  he 
did  so  remain  until  elected  to  the  Legislature,  as  already  stated. 

Arriving  at  the  capital  of  Ohio  after  that  election,  he  found 
that  his  reputation  had  gone  before  him,  and  that  he  was  con- 
fidently expected  to  assume  the  leadership  of  the  Whigs  in  the 
House.  This  responsibility  he  did  not  decline,  and  in  the  stir- 
ring scenes  which  followed,  as  may  be  seen  by  reference  to  the 
official  records,  he  played  so  prominent  a  part  as  to  make  his 
name  well  known  throughout  Ohio.  At  the  time  in  question 
the  Whigs  had  carried  the  State  by  a  large  majority  for  Gov- 
ernor and  President,  but  there  was  a  small  Democratic  major- 
ity in  the  Legislature.  This  was  the  more  unfortunate  for  Mr. 
Schenck' s  party,  as  the  General  Assembly  of  that  year  was 
called  upon  to  re-apportion  the  State  into  Congressional  dis- 
tricts. A  bill  providing  for  such  re-apportionment,  introduced 
by  the  Democrats,  gerrymandered  the  State  in  so  outrageous  a 
fashion  as  to  give  the  Whigs — who  had  a  large  popular  major- 
ity of  the  voters,  it  will  be  remembered — only  six  Congressmen, 
while  under  its  provisions  the  Democrats  were  assured  of  four- 
teen. Come  what  might,  and  despite  the  consequences,  Mr. 
Schenck  and  the  other  leading  Whigs  determined  to  defeat 
this  bill.     For  days  it  was  debated  and  re-debated  in  the  pres- 


228  Twelve  Americans. 

ence  of  crowds  of  spectators  who  continually  thronged  the  lit- 
tle old-fashioned  State-house.  The  Whigs  delayed  its  passage 
by  many  dilatory  motions.  Parliamentary  tactics  of  all  sorts 
were  employed,  in  the  hope  of  securing  its  defeat.  Still  the 
Democrats  persisted,  and  late  one  night,  thinking  that  the 
Whigs  were  at  last  exhausted,  the  Speaker,  Rufus  P.  Spaulding, 
afterward  a  well  known  member  of  Congress,  made  a  desperate 
attempt  to  choke  off  debate  and  rush  the  measure  through  on 
a  snap  judgment.  In  a  twinkling,  however,  and  even  as  he 
was  about  to  put  the  question,  Schenck  was  on  his  feet,  cry- 
ing, high  above  the  tumult  on  the  floor, 

"  Mr.  Speaker,  Mr.  Speaker,  you  dare  not,  you  shall  not  put 
the  question  at  this  time.  Under  our  present  Constitution  it 
requires  two-thirds  to  make  a  quorum  of  this  House,  and  I  de- 
clare to  you  that  if  you  attempt  to  perpetrate  the  outrage 
which  you  have  in  contemplation  you  will  on  the  instant  be 
left  without  a  sufficient  number  of  members  legally  to  carry 
on  business." 

Fully  aware  that  this  threat  was  far  from  being  an  idle  one, 
the  Democrats  became  greatly  alarmed,  did  not  attempt  to 
pass  the  bill,  and  consented  to  an  adjournment.  Immediately 
afterward  the  Whig  members  met  in  caucus.  Mr.  Schenck 
pointed  out  to  them  the  gravity  of  the  situation,  and  it  was 
agreed  that  if  the  obnoxious  bill  was  forced  through  the  House 
the  Whig  members  in  the  Senate  should  resign,  leave  that 
body  without  a  quorum,  and  so  prevent  the  measure  from  be- 
coming a  law.  Subsequently  Mr.  Schenck  discovered  that 
some  of  his  party  associates  in  the  Senate  could  not  be  trusted 
to  take  this  course,  and  he  determined  that  the  gerrymander 
bill  must  be  stopped  in  the  House.  Many  of  his  associates 
believed  that  this  could  be  accomplished,  if  a  certain  number 
of  Whigs  would  absent  themselves  from  the  proceedings  of  the 
Assembly.  In  opposition  to  this  theory,  Mr.  Schenck  pointed 
out  that  the  Democratic  Speaker  and  the  majority  remaining 


The  Recollections  of  a  Veteran.  229 

could  easily  compel  the  attendance  of  absentee  members,  and 
that  only  by  resigning  their  seats  absolutely  could  the  Whigs 
hope  legally  and  effectively  to  accomplish  the  object  which 
they  had  in  view. 

Having  convinced  them  of  this  fact,  Mr.  Schenck  succeeded 
in  obtaining  the  written  resignations  of  thirty-seven  of  his  as- 
sociates. Armed  with  these  he  took  his  seat  in  the  House  the 
next  morning.  All  the  Whigs  with  him  were  in  their  places. 
The  Democrats  were  also  present  in  full  force,  and  the  Chamber 
was  crowded  with  spectators,  who  evidently  awaited  a  scene. 
They  were  not  disappointed.  Immediately  after  the  call  to 
order  Mr.  Chambers,  of  Muskingum  County,  amid  much  con- 
fusion, tried  to  obtain  the  floor.  At  first  the  Speaker  refused 
to  listen  to  him,  but  at  last,  on  the  statement  that  the  gentle- 
man arose  to  a  question  of  privilege,  he  was  obliged  to  do  so. 
Then,  prompted  by  Schenck,  Chambers  quietly  presented  the 
resignations  of  his  colleagues,  and,  to  the  consternation  of  the 
Democrats,  who  had  expected  no  such  move,  the  thirty-seven 
Whigs  left  their  seats  and  filed  out  of  the  Assembly  Chamber. 

For  a  moment,  as  has  been  intimated,  the  Democrats  were 
completely  taken  by  surprise,  and  saw  no  way  out  of  their  di- 
lemma. Then  the  adroit  Speaker  tried  to  settle  the  matter  by 
putting  the  question  and  passing  the  gerrymander  bill  with- 
out division.  This  trick  had  been  anticipated  by  the  shrewd 
Whig  leader,  who  had  left  his  associate,  "  old  Eagle-eye "  (as 
Chambers  was  familiarly  called),  to  represent  his  party  on  the 
floor.  The  moment  this  sturdy  old  gentleman  noticed  what 
the  Speaker  was  about  he  jumped  to  his  feet,  and,  in  a  voice 
which  could  not  be  disregarded,  cried  out, 

"  Upon  the  question  of  the  passage  of  this  bill,  Mr.  Speaker, 
I  rise  to  demand  the  yeas  and  nays — a  right  which  any  one 
member  has  under  a  well-known  section  of  our  Constitution." 

The  Speaker  tried  hard  to  ignore  this  appeal ;  but  "  old 
Eagle-eye  "  persisted,  screaming,  at  the  top  of  his  voice, 


230  Twelve  Americans. 

"  The  yeas  and  nays !  the  yeas  and  nays !  I  demand  the 
yeas  and  nays !" 

In  the  end  this  demand  had  to  be  acceded  to.  The  roll  was 
called,  and  the  fact  that  there  was  no  quorum  present  was  es- 
tablished. Then  the  Democrats  raised  a  point  of  order — that 
members  of  the  Legislature  could  not  resign  by  simply  making 
statement  of  such  resignation  to  their  colleagues.  For  this, 
also,  the  Whig  representative  was  prepared.  He  stated — what 
upon  investigation  proved  to  be  the  truth — that  his  party  as- 
sociates had  sent  to  the  Governor  duplicates  of  their  resig- 
nations, properly  drawn  and  in  legal  form.  Upon  this  the 
Speaker  wrote  to  the  Governor,  telling  him  that  thirty-seven 
members  of  the  Legislature  had  absented  themselves  from  their 
seats  without  leave,  and  invoking  his  aid  to  secure  their  return. 
In  reply,  "  Tom "  Corwin,  who  was  then  Governor,  and  fully 
aware  of  the  Whig  scheme,  wrote  the  Speaker  with  the  utmost 
gravity  that  the  Executive  had  no  authority  in  the  premises, 
and  added,  significantly, 

"  But,  in  my  opinion,  if  any  number  of  members  of  the 
Legislature  have  unduly  absented  themselves,  the  majority  of 
their  colleagues  may  force  their  attendance." 

Of  course  this  left  the  Democrats  precisely  where  they  were. 
In  the  end  they  had  to  acknowledge  themselves  defeated,  the 
Legislature  was  broken  up,  and  the  obnoxious  gerrymander  did 
not  go  into  force. 

Because  of  his  connection  with  this  contest  the  Democrats 
throughout  Ohio  declared,  with  much  vehemence  and  profan- 
ity, that  Mr.  Schenck  should  never  be  elected  to  another  office. 
This  threat  induced  him  to  accept  a  re-nomination  to  the  Leg- 
islature. True  to  their  promise,  the  Democrats,  in  the  canvass 
which  followed,  made  the  most  desperate  warfare  upon  him. 
John  Brough,  their  most  eloquent  orator,  was  sent  into  the  dis- 
trict to  speak  against  him.  Schenck  took  the  stump  in  per- 
son.    The  canvass  (of  extraordinary  excitement)  was  continued 


The  Recollections  of  a  Veteran.  231 

until  the  closing  of  the  polls  on  election-day,  and  then  it  was 
found  that  Schenck  had  triumphed.  He  was  elected  by  a  ma- 
jority of  one  hundred  and  eleven  votes,  and  found  himself 
from  that  time  so  deeply  immersed  in  politics  that  he  was 
forced  subsequently  to  abandon  his  early  resolution  of  devot- 
ing his  life  to  the  profession  in  which  he  was  beginning  to 
win  so  much  distinction  and  profit. 

Indeed,  so  prominent  had  he  become  in  politics,  that  after 
the  re-apportionment  of  the  Congressional  districts  of  the  State 
he  was  selected  as  the  man  best  fitted  to  carry  his  district,  and, 
as  was  subsequently  proved,  this  judgment  was  in  every  way  a 
correct  one.  His  majority  in  his  own  county  was  two  hun- 
dred and  seventy-six,  and  after  a  heated  contest  he  was  elect- 
ed to  Congress  by  a  large  vote.  After  serving  one  term  he 
expressed  great  disinclination  to  return  to  "Washington,  still 
hoping  that  he  might  resume  the  practice  of  the  law.  At  that 
time  the  Dayton  district  was  composed  of  five  counties,  and 
the  district  convention  numbered  seventy-five  delegates.  When 
the  convention  met  a  letter  from  Mr.  Schenck  embodying  his 
views  and  withdrawing  his  name  was  read,  and  five  aspirants 
for  the  Congressional  seat  were  put  in  nomination.  It  was 
evident  that  a  bitter  contest  was  in  prospect,  when  one  of  the 
delegates,  hoping  to  avoid  it,  arose  and  said, 

"Gentlemen,  I  ask  the  convention  to  take  one  vote  for  a  can- 
didate, which  vote  shall  not  be  binding,  but  shall  be  taken 
with  the  understanding  that  Mr.  Schenck  has  not  absolutely 
declined  to  go  into  the  contest." 

This  proposition  was  agreed  to,  the  result  of  the  informal 
ballot  being  that  each  of  the  seventy-five  delegates  expressed 
a  preference  for  Robert  C.  Schenck.  This  information  was 
brought  to  the  latter  by  "  old  Squire  Irwin,"  a  noted  character 
of  the  time ;  and  to  his  earnest  request  that  Mr.  Schenck  ac- 
cede to  the  wishes  of  his  friends  the  young  man,  naturally  grat- 
ified and  flattered  by  the  compliment  from  his  party,  replied, 


232  Twelve  Americans. 

"  Very  well,  then ;  if  }'ou  are  determined  to  ruin  me,  go 
on." 

For  eight  years  after  this  he  was  kept  continuously  in  Con- 
gress, and  was  never  again  able  to  resume  the  active  practice 
of  the  profession  to  which  he  had  intended  to  devote  himself. 
During  his  Congressional  service  at  this  time  he  was  engaged 
in  some  of  the  most  important  as  well  as  exciting  and  interest- 
ing scenes  which  occurred  in  the  Capitol. 

The  close  relation  with  Daniel  Webster  which  he  formed  in 
those  years,  and  which  continued  thereafter,  grew  out  of  an 
incident  well  worthy  of  more  than  passing  notice.  On  the 
floor  of  the  House  of  which  Schenck  was  a  member  Charles 
J.  Ingersoll,  a  Democrat  from  Philadelphia,  and  brother  of  the 
gentleman  who  was  afterward  Minister  to  England,  attacked 
the  Massachusetts  statesman  in  most  violent  terms.  He 
charged  him  with  corruption  of  various  kinds,  and  among  other 
things  said  that  he  had  illegally  used  the  Secret  Service  fund 
of  the  State  Department  to  subsidize  the  press  in  advocacy  of 
the  settlement  of  the  North-eastern  Boundary  Question.  Im- 
mediately upon  this  attack  Schenck,  who  was  even  thus  early 
in  life  one  of  the  readiest  and  most  quick-witted  of  debaters, 
offered  a  resolution  reciting  the  charges  which  had  been  made 
against  Webster,  and,  in  the  interest  of  the  latter,  calling  for 
an  investigation  to  determine  how  Mr.  Ingersoll  had  obtained 
his  information.  The  result  of  the  inquiry  wTas  the  discovery 
that  Ingersoll  had  bribed  a  clerk  in  the  State  Department  to 
divulge  such  information  as  he  possessed.  During  the  inves- 
tigation it  is  notable  that  ex-President  Tyler,  who  was  called 
from  Virginia  as  a  witness,  testified  to  such  facts  as  complete- 
ly exonerated  Mr.  Webster  from  the  charges  made  against  him. 

Farther,  it  is  of  both  interest  and  importance  to  recall  that 
during  this  inquiry  Mr.  Schenck,  much  to  the  delight  of  Web- 
ster, found  that,  while  Jefferson  was  Secretary  of  State,  Aaron 
Burr  had  been  permitted  to  go  through  the  files — the  secret 


The  Recollections  of  a  Veteran.  233 

archives — of  the  State  Department  in  order  to  obtain  evidence 
which,  it  was  hoped,  might  injure  President  Washington  in  the 
esteem  of  his  fellow-citizens.  This,  by-the-way,  was  the  only 
case  of  an  inquiry  of  like  character  which  the  history  of  the 
country  up  to  that  time  afforded.  The  investigation  resulted  in 
clearing  Mr.  Webster  entirely,  and  the  Ingersoll  charges  were 
soon  lost  sight  of.  Since  then  the  contingent  fund  of  the  State 
Department,  known  as  the  Secret  Service  Fund,  has  been  used 
by  successive  Secretaries  of  State  without  question.  It  was  orig- 
inally intended  to  influence  diplomatic  relations,  and  to  obtain 
in  the  interest  of  our  Government  information  relative  to  the 
intentions  of  foreign  nations  toward  our  own.  To  what  uses 
it  is  now  put  Heaven  and  the  gentleman  who  sits  in  the  chair 
of  Secretary  of  State  only  know. 

By  the  able  defence  which  he  made  in  behalf  of  Webster, 
Mr.  Schenck  was  drawn  into  the  closest  relations  with  the 
great  man.  Pending  the  investigation  he  breakfasted  with  him 
frequently,  and  to  this  day  recalls  with  what  fluency  Webster 
talked  upon  all  sorts  of  topics,  varying  political  discussion 
with  nice  discriminations  in  regard  to  the  fish  or  birds  which 
he  carved  and  served  with  as  much  precision  and  exactness  as 
evident  pleasure.  During  one  of  these  breakfasts  Mr.  Schenck 
asked  him  which  of  all  his  speeches  he  believed  to  be  the  best. 

"  Well,  now,"  answered  the  great  orator,  musingly,  "  I  hard- 
ly know  what  to  say  to  you  in  reply.  I  can  scarcely  be  the 
best  judge  of  my  own  efforts.  Which  of  my  speeches  do  you 
think  the  best  ?" 

"  I  can  answer  that  with  great  ease,"  replied  Schenck,  "  and 
I  am  almost  sure  you  will  agree  with  me  in  believing  that  your 
speech  on  the  '  Foote  resolution '  was  the  greatest  you  have 
yet  made." 

"  Perhaps  so,"  replied  Webster,  at  the  same  time  quickly 
adding,  "And  that  speech,  by-the-bye,  was  not  altogether  ex- 
temporaneous, as  many  people  believe.     I  had  known  for  a 


234  Twelve  Americans. 

long  time  that  the  debate  of  which  it  was  a  part  must  come, 
and  in  anticipation  of  that  debate  I  had  carefully  prepared 
many  passages  of  the  speech.1' 

"  Still,"  resumed  Mr.  Schenck,  "  it  was  not  correctly  re- 
ported." 

"  Xot  correctly  reported  !"  said  "Webster.  "  What  do  you 
mean  ?" 

"  I  mean,"  said  the  younger  man,  "  that  in  your  speech  you 
combat  the  idea  of  Calhoun  and  others — they  being  for  what 
they  call  liberty  first,  and  for  union  afterward.  You  say  you 
cannot  consent  to  this  proposition — that  you  are  for  '  liberty 
and  union,  now  and  forever,  one  and  inseparable !'  but  in  the 
reports  of  your  speech  that  sentence  does  not  appear  as  you 
evidently  intended  to  deliver  and  express  it.  Why  should  a 
comma  be  inserted  after  the  word  '  forever,'  making  the  sen- 
tence read  in  measured,  recitative  form,  detracting  from  the 
strength  of  the  idea?  The  same  punctuation  is  followed  on  the 
great  gold  medal  presented  to  you  by  the  State  of  Massachu- 
setts because  of  that  speech.  Your  obvious  intent,  I  think, 
was  to  say  that  you  were  '  for  liberty  and  union,  now  and  for- 
ever one  and  inseparable  !'  " 

To  this  Webster,  without  a  moment's  hesitation,  rejoined, 

"  You  are  right,  sir — you  are  right.  You  interpret  my  mean- 
ing far  better  than  do  any  of  those  whom  I  have  heard  re- 
peat that  portion  of  the  address." 

To  this  day  Mr.  Schenck  delights  to  recall  this  historical 
interview,  which  is  here  repeated  most  exactly.  He  delights, 
also,  to  recall  the  fashion  in  which  the  great  men  of  "  the  days 
that  are  gone  "  used  their  powers  of  oratory.  In  conversation 
upon  this  subject  recently  Mr.  Schenck  said, 

"  Mr.  Webster  during  the  delivery  of  his  great  orations  re- 
minded me  of  a  man  who  was  placing  stone  after  stone  in 
position  until  the  whole  of  a  wonderful  structure  was  finally 
erected.     The  structure  was  a  ponderous  and  solid  one  always. 


The  Recollections  of  a  Veteran.  235 

Choate  differed  from  Webster  in  that  his  structure  was  airy, 
pagoda-like,  and  beautiful.  His  building  material  was  some- 
times so  far-fetched,  so  ornamented  and  circled  about  with 
embellishments,  that  one  might  for  the  moment  fear  the  whole 
fabric  would  be  thrown  to  the  ground.  Even  at  that  moment, 
however,  when  Choate  was  apparently  becoming  most  involved, 
he  would  rapidly  dash  in  with  some  powerful  binding  link  of 
logic,  and  so  clinch  his  argument  as  to  hold  the  structure  he 
had  built  compact,  erect,  and  beautiful." 

III. 
THE   SHADOW   OF   COMING  EVENTS. 

At  this  period  in  his  career — that  is  to  say,  during  his  early 
service  in  Congress  —  Mr.  Schenck  began  to  develop  much 
antislavery  feeling.  At  an  earlier  period — before  he  went  to 
Congress  or  the  Legislature — he  sympathized  keenly  with  the 
fugitive  slaves  who  came  over  the  Ohio  border,  and  it  is  note- 
worthy that  at  one  time,  during  a  riot  against  the  negroes  who 
lived  in  Dayton,  he,  at  great  risk  to  himself,  sheltered  a  number 
of  them  in  his  own  house  and  stables,  and  so  doubtless  saved 
them  from  violence,  if  not  from  death.  During  his  eight  years 
of  subsequent  service  in  Congress  he  ranked  among  the  anti- 
slavery  Whigs,  and  was  always  ready  to  stand  in  the  front  line 
of  his  party,  ready  to  take  and  give  the  hardest  blows  for  the 
cause  in  which  he  believed.  On  one  occasion,  on  the  floor  of 
the  House,  Joshua  R.  Giddings,  of  Ohio,  was  assailed  in  the 
bitterest  fashion  by  a  number  of  the  friends  of  slavery,  and 
charged  with  stealing  negroes  and  sending  them  away  from 
the  District  of  Columbia — then,  of  course,  within  the  slave  do- 
minion. After  abuse  of  this  sort  had  been  heaped  upon  him 
for  some  days,  he  at  last  rose  to  a  personal  explanation  and 
demanded  the  floor.  At  once  from  the  Southern  members 
there  came  cries  of — 


236  Twelve  Americans. 

"  Don't  hear  him  !  don't  hear  him  !   We  object !  we  object !" 

A  scene  of  almost  riotous  confusion  followed,  and  in  the 
midst  of  it  Schenck,  broad-shouldered,  square-headed,  and 
powerful,  rose  in  his  place,  commanding  silence  by  the  in- 
tensity of  his  manner  and  the  vehemence  with  which  he  said, 

"  I  have  no  personal  interest  in  this  matter,  Mr.  Speaker, 
nor  knowledge  of  the  matters  alleged,  but  when  the  honorable 
gentleman,  my  colleague,  who  has  been  so  violently  and  grave- 
ly assailed,  desires  to  make  a  personal  explanation,  surely  he 
should  be  permitted  to  do  so.  Under  such  circumstances,  sir, 
no  gentleman  would  object." 

Again,  however,  there  came  from  different  parts  of  the 
Chamber  cries  of  "I  object!  I  object!"  and  again  Schenck, 
with  renewed  emphasis,  said, 

*'  I  repeat,  Mr.  Speaker,  that  under  the  circumstances  no 
gentleman  would  object." 

As  a  result  of  this  courage  and  pertinacity  Mr.  Giddings 
was  allowed  to  make  his  explanation.  When  the  scene  was 
over  there  was  much  discussion  as  to  who  Schenck  referred 
to  when  he  said  that  no  gentleman  would  object ;  and  Jacob 
Thompson,  of  Mississippi,  who  was  afterward  Secretary  of  the 
Interior,  communicated  to  him  the  impression — which  was  gen- 
eral in  the  House — that  he  meant  Slidell,  of  Louisiana. 

"That  is  a  mistake,"  replied  Mr.  Schenck;  "I  did  not  even 
know  that  he  was  in  the  House." 

"  Are  you  willing  to  make  that  explanation  public  ?"  asked 
Thompson. 

"Certainly,"  was  the  reply.     "I  will  do  so  with  pleasure." 

The  next  day,  on  the  floor,  Mr.  Slidell,  in  accordance  with 
this  arrangement,  rose  and  asked  if  the  gentleman  from  Ohio 
referred  to  him  when  he  said  that  no  gentleman  would  object 
to  Mr.  Giddings's  explanation. 

"  No,  certainly  not,  sir,"  replied  Schenck ;  "  I  did  not  even 
know  that  the  gentleman  from  Louisiana  was  in  the  House." 


The  Recollections  of  a  Veteran.  237 

Still  Slidell  questioned  him,  saying,  "  If  the  gentleman  from 
Ohio  knew  that  the  member  from  Louisiana  was  in  the  House 
would  he  have  made  that  remark?" 

"That,"  replied  Schenck,  "is  a  hypothetical  question,  and  I 
will  not  be  questioned  in  that  fashion." 

Still  the  Southern  member  went  on  to  interrogate  him ;  and 
at  last,  entirely  out  of  patience,  Schenck  took  the  floor,  not- 
withstanding the  almost  violent  efforts  which  his  friend,  Gov- 
ernor Vance,  of  Ohio,  made  to  restrain  him,  and  said, 

"  It  is  evident  that  what  the  member  from  Louisiana  desires 
to  know  is  to  whom  I  referred  when  I  said  yesterday  that  no 
gentleman  would  object  to  the  explanation  of  my  colleague. 
Lest  there  be  any  farther  doubt  upon  this  subject,  I  will  say 
here  and  now  that  I  meant  and  referred  to  the  drunken  mem- 
ber from  Alabama,  Felix  G.  M'Connell." 

As  may  well  be  imagined,  this  declaration  created  the  wildest 
excitement  in  the  House.  M'Connell,  one  of  the  most  violent 
of  the  Democrats  and  pro -slavery  men  then  in  Washington, 
rushed  down  the  aisle  shaking  his  fist  at  Schenck,  and  for  a 
moment  it  was  believed  that  a  personal  encounter  could  not 
be  avoided.  With  great  difficulty  order  was  at  last  restored 
and  the  ordinary  business  of  the  House  for  a  time  resumed. 
Just  before  adjournment,  however,  Garret  Davis  came  over  to 
where  Mr.  Schenck  was  quietly  seated  and  said, 

"  Have  you  a  pistol,  Schenck  ?" 

"  No,"  replied  the  latter ;  "  I  never  carried  one  in  my  life." 

"  Well,  you  had  better  carry  one  to-day,"  said  Davis,  "  for 
M'Connell  is  swearing  he  will  shoot  you  on  sight." 

"  Still,  I  haven't  a  pistol,  and  don't  know  where  to  get  one," 
replied  Schenck. 

"Take  mine — take  mine,"  said  Davis,  at  the  same  time  qui- 
etly handing  his  friend  a  pistol.  For  some  days  after  this 
Mr.  Schenck  went  armed.  Three  days  later  he  met  M'Connell 
as  he  was  walking  down  the  eastern  steps  of  the  Capitol.    The 


238  Tioelve  Americans. 

Alabamian  was  standing  quietly  on  the  portico,  but  made  no 
demonstration  as  Schenck  passed  him,  and  so  the  affair  ended. 

About  this  time  Mr.  Schenck  was  engaged  in  a  somewhat 
similar  encounter.  Mr.  Fries,  who  was  then  a  member  from 
Ohio,  had,  during  a  debate  upon  an  unimportant  question, 
spoken  to  or  regarding  Mr.  Schenck  in  terms  of  disrespect. 
In  replying,  the  latter,  controlling  his  temper  with  difficulty, 
but  still  with  apparent  calmness,  said, 

"  The  member,  my  colleague,  does  not  seem  to  know  what 
belongs  to  one  gentleman  from  another.'' 

"Do  you  mean  to  say,  sir,  that  I  am  no  gentleman  V  cried 
Mr.  Fries,  red  with  passion. 

"  I  said,  and  I  repeat,"  said  Schenck,  "  that  my  colleague 
does  not  seem  to  know  what  belongs  to  one  gentleman  from 
another :  that  is  what  I  say,  and  I  hope  my  colleague  is  an- 
swered." 

This  ended  the  matter  for  the  moment,  but  it  was  expected 
that  Fries  would  challenge  the  man  who  had,  as  far  as  parlia- 
mentary usage  would  permit,  declared  that  he  was  no  gentle- 
man. The  belligerent  Fries  failed  to  do  this,  however,  being 
fully  assured  that  Schenck  would  not  refuse  to  meet  him,  and 
having  the  good-sense  to  believe  that  discretion  was  the  better 
part  of  valor. 

Through  such  encounters  as  these,  and  by  his  leaning  toward 
the  antislavery  side  on  questions  which  were  then  beginning 
to  agitate  the  country,  Mr.  Schenck  was  brought  prominently 
in  contact  with  such  great  men  as  Henry  Clay,  Daniel  Webster, 
Silas  Wright,  Rufus  Choate,  and  Thomas  H.  Benton ;  and  he 
had  the  amplest  opportunities  to  cultivate  the  friendship  of 
such  antislavery  Democrats  as  Hannibal  Hamlin.  It  is  worthy 
of  remark  that  he  and  Mr.  Hamlin  entered  Congress  at  the 
same  time.  The  House  was  then  controlled  by  a  Whig  major- 
ity. Hamlin  was  an  ardent  Democrat.  Both  he  and  Schenck 
were  on  the  Committee  on  Elections,  which  was  composed  of 


The  Recollections  of  a  Veteran.  239 

six  Democrats  and  three  Whigs.  Garret  Davis,  as  Mr.  Schenck 
remembers,  was  the  most  pronounced  of  the  Whig  members, 
and  being  a  hot-headed,  impulsive  man,  had  frequent  discus- 
sions with  his  stubborn  and  persistent  opponent,  Hamlin. 
These  debates  resulted  in  a  dislike  for  the  member  from 
Maine  on  the  part  of  the  Kentuckian,  which  he  never  attempt- 
ed to  conceal.  Indeed,  in  conversations  about  him,  Davis  al- 
ways referred  contemptuously  to  Hamlin  as  "  that  black 
Penobscot  Indian,"  an  allusion,  of  course,  to  Mr.  Hamlin's  ex- 
treme swarthiness  of  complexion.  One  day,  in  the  committee- 
room,  Davis,  being  more  than  usually  excited,  was  engaged  in 
a  particularly  heated  controversy  with  Hamlin,  and  finally  said 
to  him, 

"You  must  not  talk  in  that  way,  sir — you  must  not  talk  in 
that  way." 

"  Well,  no  matter  how  I  may  talk,"  replied  Hamlin,  "  I  will, 
at  least,  think  as  I  please." 

"  No,  sir — no  sir !  dam'me  if  you  will !"  blurted  out  Davis, 
entirely  beside  himself.  "  I'll  be  damned  if  you  will  think  as 
you  please  !     You  have  no  right  to  think  at  all,  sir !" 

The  ludicrousness  of  the  scene  can  be  better  imagined  than 
described.  Even  those  who  were  engaged  in  it  suddenly  saw 
how  ridiculous  it  was,  and  its  finale  was  a  hearty  laugh  all 
around. 

After  eight  years  of  active  service  in  Congress,  and  frequent 
participation  in  such  boisterous  scenes  as  those  described,  Mr. 
Schenck's  health  failed  him.  Indeed,  some  of  the  best  doctors 
in  the  country  gave  him  the  comforting  assurance  that  he  was 
slowly  but  surely  dying  of  consumption.  This  opinion  was 
given  by  a  council  of  physicians  who  met  to  discuss  his  case 
early  in  1848.  They  calmly  assured  him  that,  though  he 
might  last  through  the  summer,  he  could  not  hope  to  be  alive 
at  the  end  of  the  winter.  This  being  his  condition,  he  deter- 
mined to  leave  public  life,  and  in  the  hope  of  regaining  his 


240  Twelve  Americans. 

health  went  to  Cuba.  He  was  not  materially  benefited  by  his 
sojourn  there  ;  and  being  offered  the  Brazilian  mission  by  Pres- 
ident Fillmore  and  Mr.  "Webster — a  position,  by-the-way,  which 
President  Taylor  had  desired  him  to  take — he  accepted  it.  The 
result  of  his  two  and  a  half  years'  service  at  the  Brazilian  Court, 
and  as  special  envoy  to  the  South  American  republics,  was  the 
opening  up  of  the  rivers  of  those  countries  to  the  navigation 
of  foreign  vessels,  and  the  commencement  of  a  commerce  which 
has  since  grown  to  mammoth  proportions.  Acting  in  his  ca- 
pacity as  special  envoy  to  Montevideo  and  Uruguay,  he  effected 
a  number  of  treaties  which  were  exceedingly  beneficial  to  this 
country,  and  for  such  service  was  warmly  complimented  by 
the  home  Government,  The  following  copy  of  the  credential 
which  he  bore  to  the  President  of  Uruguay  may  be  worthy  of 
quotation  at  this  time  : 

"Millard  Fillmore,  President  of  the  United  States,  to  his  Excellency  the 
President  of  the  Oriental  Republic  of  Uruguay: 

"  Great  and  Good  Friend, — I  have  made  choice  of  Robert  C.  Schenck, 
one  of  our  most  distinguished  citizens,  and  Envoy  Extraordinary  and  Min- 
ister Plenipotentiary  to  Brazil,  to  proceed  to  Montevideo  on  business  con- 
nected with  the  well-being  of  our  respective  countries.  I  consequently 
pray  your  Excellency  to  give  credence  to  whatever  Mr.  Schenck  shall  say 
to  you  on  our  part,  and,  most  of  all,  when  he  shall  assure  your  Excellency 
of  our  ardent  desire  to  maintain  unimpaired  and  to  strengthen  the  friend- 
ly relations  which  fortunately  exist  between  the  United  States  and  the 
Oriental  Republic  of  Uruguay.  And  so  I  pray  God  to  have  your  Excel- 
lency in  his  safe  and  holy  keeping. 

"Written  at  Washington,  this  27th  day  of  April,  a.d.  1852. 

"  Tour  good  friend,  Millard  Fillmore. 

"By  the  President. 

"Daniel  Webster,  Secretary  of  State." 

Mr.  Schenck  returned  from  the  Brazilian  mission  in  1854. 
He  was  so  much  improved  in  health  that  he  was  able  to  dis- 
miss the  doctor.  From  that  day  to  this  he  has  never  been 
troubled  with  any  lung  difficulty. 

When  he  arrived  back  in  his  native  country  as  described  he 
found  that  the  antislavery  movement  had  made  extraordinary 


The  Recollections  of  a  Veteran.  241 

progress,  and  foresaw  that  the  Republican  Party — then  in  its 
infancy — was  destined  to  wield  great  influence  in  the  nation. 
Still,  he  did  not  immediately  ally  himself  to  that  party,  though 
he  sympathized  with  the  principles  of  the  Republican  organi- 
zation, and  refused  to  act  with  any  other.  The  result  was  that 
he  stayed  out  of  politics  and  public  life  for  a  time,  and  en- 
gaged principally  in  trying,  by  the  practice  of  his  profession 
and  the  management  of  railroad  interests,  to  better  his  per- 
sonal fortunes.  In  the  fall  of  1859,  however,  he  found  it  im- 
possible longer  to  absent  himself  from  a  discussion  of  the 
great  questions  then  agitating  the  Union.  It  is  memorable 
that  in  September  of  that  year  he  addressed  a  large  meeting 
of  his  old  friends  and  constituents  in  Dayton.  In  that  speech 
he  nominated  Abraham  Lincoln  for  President  of  the  United 
States,  being  the  first  man  to  do  so  in  any  large  meeting.  Mr. 
Lincoln  himself  had  spoken  in  Dayton  early  on  the  same  day ; 
and  in  the  evening,  allusion  being  made  to  the  coming  Presi- 
dential contest,  Mr.  Schenck,  with  marked  emphasis,  said, 

"If  the  Republican  Party  of  this  country,  if  the  thinking, 
liberty -loving  men  of  this  country,  want  an  honest,  sensible 
man  to  lead  them  in  the  coming  campaign,  they  cannot  do 
better  than  nominate  the  distinguished  gentleman  from  Illi- 
nois, Abraham  Lincoln." 

In  after-years  Mr.  Lincoln  frequently  related  this  incident, 
and  declared  that  Schenck  was  the  first  man  who  had  in  a 
public  address  named  him  for  the  Presidency.  Subsequent 
to  the  Dayton  speech,  in  the  Chicago  Convention,  Mr.  Schenck 
was  largely  instrumental  in  securing  the  nomination  of  his  fa- 
vorite. In  the  campaign  which  followed  he  took  the  stump 
at  Mr.  Lincoln's  personal  request,  making  the  difficult  canvass 
of  the  southern  counties  of  Illinois,  comprising  the  political 
district  well  named  "  Egypt."  It  was  of  this  portion  of  the 
country  that  a  witty  speaker  once  remarked,  "  In  Egypt  the 
American  eagle  lays  rotten  eggs  to  be  flung  at  Republican 

11 


242  Twelve  Americans. 

speakers."  As  may  well  be  imagined,  it  required  a  man 'of 
exceptional  nerve,  pluck,  and  tact  to  advocate  the  cause  of 
Lincoln  in  such  a  district.  Robert  C.  Schenck  was  fully  equal 
to  the  emergency.  He  spoke  all  over  "  Egypt ;"  and  though  he 
was  frequently  threatened  with  violence,  he  escaped  unharmed, 
after  having  done  much  to  advance  the  Republican  cause. 
When  he  had  finished  this  duty  he  visited  Mr.  Lincoln  in 
Springfield,  there  renewing  the  friendship  which  had  origi- 
nated in  Congress  years  before. 

A  few  months  later,  after  the  Illinois  statesman  had  entered 
upon  the  duties  of  the  Presidency,  Mr.  Schenck  was  called  to 
New  England  upon  a  matter  of  personal  business,  and  while  in 
Boston  first  received  intelligence  of  the  rebel  attack  on  Sum- 
ter. With  the  quick  wit  and  decision  of  character  for  which 
he  was  proverbial  he  at  once  saw  that  if  the  country  was  to  be 
saved  no  time  was  to  be  lost.  He  determined  that  it  was  the 
duty  of  all  loyal  men  who  could  bear  the  hardships  of  war 
to  offer  their  services  to  the  country,  and  in  accord  with  this 
decision  he  hastened  to  write  the  following  letter,  which  was 
sent  as  addressed : 

"Boston,  April  17, 1S61. 
"  To  AbraJiam  Lincoln,  President  of  the  United  States  : 

"  Sir, — If  I  can  serve  you  in  any  capacity  whatever  in  helping  to  sustain 
the  Government,  the  Union,  and  our  flag,  I  beg  that  you  will  call  upon  me. 
My  present  purpose,  if  nothing  be  required  of  me,  is  to  go  to  New  York 
next  Saturday,  the  20th,  and  from  there  to  my  home  in  Ohio,  about  the 
25th  or  26th  instant. 

"  Eespectfully  and  faithfully,  your  friend  and  fellow-citizen, 

"  Robert  C.  Schenck." 

Hearing  nothing  from  the  President  in  reply  to  this  note, 
Mr.  Schenck  left  Boston  for  New  York,  and  found  that  city  in 
the  wildest  confusion.  On  the  evening  of  his  arrival  the  great 
Union  mass-meeting  was  held,  and  he  remembers  that  at  it  he 
spoke  from  the  same  stand  as  Fernando  "Wood,  who,  much 
against  his  will,  had  been  forced  into  the  war  movement.     It 


The  Recollections  of  a  Veteran.  243 

was  noticeable  that  while  the  latter  was  speaking  a  number  of 
his  younger  constituents,  who  were  perched  in  trees  about  the 
stand,  cried  out  to  him, 

"  Take  care  what  you  say,  Fernandy  Wild ;  we're  watching 
you  close." 

Shortly  after  the  meeting  Mr.  Schenck,  seeing  that  the  dan- 
ger to  the  Government  was  daily  becoming  more  imminent, 
took  the  train  for  Washington.  Upon  arriving  in  Baltimore 
he  found  that  war  was  actually  in  progress,  and  that  he  could 
not  get  through  to  the  capital.  This  being  the  case,  he  made 
the  best  of  his  way  to  Lancaster,  Pennsylvania,  where  the  First 
and  Second  Regiments  of  Ohio  "  three  months  men  "  were  en- 
camped, and  after  doing  all  that  he  could  to  provide  for  their 
wants  he  hastened  on  to  Ohio.  Arriving  there,  he  immediate- 
ly informed  Governor  Dennison  that  he  wTas  ready  and  anx- 
ious to  do  his  share  in  putting  down  the  rebellion.  In  reply, 
the  Governor  wrote  that  he  was  obliged,  under  the  law,  to  ap- 
point general  officers  from  those  already  in  the  militia  service 
of  the  State,  and  that  he  could  not  bring  himself  to  offer  so 
distinguished  a  citizen  as  Mr.  Schenck  any  minor  position. 
Upon  this  the  latter  went  to  Washington  and  informed  Presi- 
dent Lincoln  that  he  would  stay  in  the  capital  as  long  as  it 
was  likely  that  his  services  might  be  needed  in  the  field.  For 
notice  that  such  service  would  be  required  of  him  he  had  not 
long  to  wait.  One  morning,  a  few  days  after  his  arrival,  Pres- 
ident Lincoln  invited  him  to  the  White  House.  The  interview 
which  followed  was  an  exceedingly  characteristic  one. 

"  Good-morning,  Mr.  Schenck,"  said  the  President  as  soon  as 
that  gentleman  made  his  appearance. 

"  Good-morning,  sir,"  replied  the  latter. 

"We're  having  a  devil  of  a  time  just  now,"  was  Mr.  Lin- 
coln's next  remark  ;  and  then,  without  waiting  for  reply  or  com- 
ment, he  concluded  with  the  abrupt  question,  "  Schenck,  can 
you  fight  ?" 


244  Twelve  Americans. 

"I  don't  know,  sir;  but  I  can  try,"  was  the  quick  response. 

"And  I  am  sure  you  will  succeed,"  said  the  President; 
"  you  have  it  in  your  blood,  and  I  am  going  to  give  you  a 
chance  to  try.     You  shall  be  made  a  brigadier-general." 

This  was  substantially  the  end  of  the  interview.  Shortly 
afterward  Mr.  Schenck  received  his  brigadier-general's  commis- 
sion, and  all  over  the  country  his  appointment  was  bitterly 
denounced  as  a  political  one.  It  was  ridiculously  claimed  by 
those  who  held  this  view  that  young  lieutenants  in  the  regular 
army,  who  were  versed  in  the  manual  of  arms,  were  consequent- 
ly better  qualified  to  command  regiments  and  armies  than  were 
men  of  varied  experience  and  acknowledged  executive  ability. 
In  short,  General  Schenck  at  this  time,  in  common  with  other 
eminent  citizens,  was  roundly  abused,  for  the  sole  reason  that 
he  had  been  distinguished  in  civil  life  before  the  war. 

IV. 
IX  THE   WAR.— THE   "VIENNA  AFFAIR." 

The  newly -appointed  commander  was  unfortunate  in  that 
during  the  first  months  of  his  prominent  service  there  occurred 
one  of  the  earliest  engagements  which  resulted  disastrously  to 
the  Union  troops.  It  was  on  the  lVth  of  June,  1861,  that 
General  Schenck  was  commanded  to  take  possession  of  the 
Loudon  and  Hampshire  Railroad  to  and  beyond  Vienna,  in 
Virginia.  The  road  in  question  had  on  the  day  previous  been 
reconnoitred  by  General  Daniel  Tyler,  who  with  400  men  had 
gone  some  distance  beyond  Vienna,  and  had  reported  that  he 
could  discover  no  enemy.  Acting  upon  this  information,  and 
wishing  to  secure  the  railroad,  General  Scott  ordered  General 
Schenck  to  send  a  regiment  of  his  brigade  toward  Vienna  and 
establish  posts  at  points  which  were  explicitly  designated. 
These  orders,  it  must  be  particularly  remarked,  were  in  writing. 
The  civilian  soldier,  General  Schenck,  obeyed  them  implicitly. 


The  Recollections  of  a  Veteran.  245 

Though  there  was  no  need  of  taking  the  risk,  he  himself  com- 
manded the  expedition.  The  trip  was  made  successfully  until, 
with  about  200  men,  the  General  approached  Vienna ;  then 
the  train  upon  which  he  and  his  men  were,  was  fired  upon  by 
a  regiment  of  800  South  Carolina  rebels  who  were  in  ambush. 
Ten  men  were  killed  and  two  wounded.  The  locomotive  of 
the  train  containing  the  Union  troops  was  in  the  rear,  and  its 
engineer — a  coward  or  a  traitor — treacherously  uncoupled  it 
and  left  General  Schenck  and  his  men  to  face  the  enemy,  who 
outnumbered  them  four  to  one.  Still,  the  Union  forces  be- 
haved with  such  bravery  and  coolness  that  the  rebels  fully 
believed  there  was  a  superior  force  behind  them,  and  retired. 

Despite  this  happy  conclusion  to  what  might  have  been  a 
disaster,  General  Schenck  was  by  his  political  opponents  chris- 
tened, in  derision,  "  the  hero  of  Vienna,"  and  roundly  abused 
in  the  newspapers.  In  those  early  days  of  the  war,  as  may  be 
remembered,  the  life  of  every  Union  soldier  who  Avas  killed 
was  charged  to  the  Union  officer  in  command.  General 
Schenck's  gallantry  at  Vienna  was  entirely  overlooked  and  for- 
gotten because  ten  of  his  men  had  been  killed  by  a  concealed 
enemy,  of  whose  presence,  according  to  the  wiseacres,  he  should 
have  been  fully  aware.  While  General  Schenck  was  thus 
abused  by  impertinent  and  superficially  informed  newspaper 
critics,  however,  he  received  for  his  conduct  at  Vienna  the 
warmest  praise  from  his  veteran  commander-in-chief,  General 
Scott,  who  took  pains  to  say  that  he  had  acted  most  gallantly, 
and  strictly  in  accordance  with  orders.  There  is  hardly  a 
doubt  that  the  careful  student  of  the  history  of  the  rebellion 
who  gives  his  attention  to  the  "Vienna  affair"  will  agree  with 
this  verdict  of  General  Scott. 

Fortunately  for  himself  and  his  military  reputation,  General 
Schenck,  shortly  after  the  events  related,  had  an  opportunity  of 
fully  displaying  the  mettle  of  which  he  was  made,  and  of  taking 
the  place  on  the  roll  of  Federal  heroism  which  was  justly  his. 


246  Twelve  Americans. 

At  the  ever-memorable  battle  of  Bull  Run  he  commanded,  in 
General  Tylers  division,  a  brigade  which  comprised  the  First 
and  Second  Regiments  of  Ohio  Volunteers,  the  Second  Xew 
York,  and  a  battery  of  six-pounders.  By  his  gallantry  in  that 
action,  his  coolness  and  discretion  in  the  retreat,  there  is  no 
doubt  that  the  rebels  were  mainly  induced  to  believe,  as  they 
did  believe,  that  large  Union  re-enforcements  held  the  "Warren- 
ton  road.  It  was  this  belief,  according  to  the  official  report  of 
General  Beauregard,  which  prevented  the  Confederates  from 
pursuing  the  Union  army,  and  thus  completing  the  disaster 
of  the  day.  In  the  retreat,  acting  under  orders  from  General 
McDowell,  General  Schenck  halted  his  brigade  at  a  point  near 
Centreville,  and  in  the  night,  after  having  made  all  due  prepa- 
ration for  protecting  that  point,  he  lay  down  in  his  blanket, 
hoping  to  catch  a  few  moments'  necessary  sleep.  It  was  at 
this  time  that  there  occurred  one  of  the  most  remarkable  inci- 
dents connected  with  the  retreat  from  Ball  Run.  Hardly  had 
General  Schenck  closed  his  eyes  when  his  orderly  came  to  in- 
form him  that  the  three  colonels  commanding  regiments  under 
him  were  bent  upon  deserting  the  position  which  they  had 
been  ordered  to  hold,  and  had  come  to  notify  him  of  their  in- 
tention. Starting  up  from  his  hard  couch  and  looking  anx- 
iously into  the  wood  by  which  he  was  surrounded,  he  was  not 
long  in  discovering  that  this  information  was  only  too  correct. 
Almost  immediately  after  it  had  been  conveyed  to  him  by  his 
orderly  he  was  approached  by  the  gentlemen  who  held  com- 
mands under  him,  and  one  of  them,  Colonel  McCook,  a  young- 
man  who  had  been  a  lieutenant  in  the  regular  army,  who  sub- 
sequently became  a  major-general,  and  who  is  still  in  the  ser- 
vice, acting  as  spokesman,  said, 

"We  have  come  to  inform  you,  General  Schenck,  that  we 
deem  it  absolutely  necessary  for  the  safety  of  our  troops  to 
abandon  this  point  at  once." 

"  That,"  replied  General  Schenck,  who,  with  his  usual  rcadi- 


The  Recollections  of  a  Veteran.  247 

ness,  instantly  comprehended  the  situation — "that  you  shall 
never  do  with  my  consent.  I  have  been  ordered  to  hold  this 
position,  and  in  turn  I  order  you  to  hold  it  with  me ;  disobe- 
dience on  your  part  would,  under  the  circumstances,  constitute 
one  of  the  grossest  crimes  against  military  law — a  crime  which, 
if  committed,  you  may  rest  assured  I  shall  try  to  have  fully 
investigated  and  adequately  punished." 

•  The  wholesome  threat  contained  in  these  sensible  words  had 
no  perceptible  effect  upon  the  insubordinate  young  officers. 
Disregarding  his  expostulation  as  well  as  his  commands  and 
arguments,  they  left  him  with  the  avowed  intention  of  retreat- 
ing with  their  commands.  Fortunately  for  themselves,  how- 
ever, they  had  not  yet  put  their  threat  into  execution  when 
there  arrived  for  General  Schenck  an  order  from  the  com- 
manding officer  to  retreat  toward  Washington  with  his  brig- 
ade. 

It  is  particularly  noticeable  in  connection  with  the  march 
toward  the  capital  which  followed,  that  General  Schenck,  of  all 
the  general  officers  who  participated  at  Bull  Run,  was  most  suc- 
cessful in  bringing  his  troops  in  good  order  from  off  the  field. 
It  is  but  simple  justice  to  make  this  statement.  Schenck's 
brigade,  all  through  the  retreat,  preserved  something  like  dis- 
cipline and  soldier-like  bearing;  the  rest  of  the  army  was  little 
better  than  a  panic-stricken  mob.  In  a  pamphlet  which  he 
subsequently  printed  in  regard  to  the  retreat  General  Ewing, 
the  father-in-law  of  General  Sherman,  went  out  of  his  way  to 
state  that  the  latter  was  the  only  man  who  held  his  troops  in 
thorough  command  during  the  flight.  This  statement,  which 
is  entirely  erroneous,  has  never  been  fully  contradicted.  In 
consequence  the  following  facts  relative  to  the  affair  may  be 
regarded  as  particularly  important. 

As  General  Schenck,  with  his  brigade,  was  retreating  on  the 
memorable  night  after  Bull  Run  he  was  hailed  by  a  man  who, 
riding  along  the  road  near  him,  cried  out, 


248  Twelve  Americans. 

"  Is  that  you,  Schenck  V 

"  Yes.  Sherman,  is  that  you  J"  replied  the  General ;  and  the 
latter,  approaching,  in  reply  to  Schenck' s  question,  "  What  has 
become  of  your  troops  V  said,  "  Heaven  only  knows — they've 
gone  with  the  crowd."' 

At  this  time  General  Schenck  had  two  of  his  regiments  well 
in  hand.  He  was  fortunate  in  being  able  to  take  them  toward 
the  capital  on  a  road  different  from  that  which  was  thronged 
by  the  disordered  remnant  of  what  had  been  the  army.  He 
was  accompanied  on  his  way  by  General  Sherman,  who  rode 
with  him  until  morning  dawned.  Then,  without  troops,  with- 
out escort,  without  even  knowing  what  had  become  of  his  com- 
mand, Sherman  proceeded  on  his  way  to  Washington.  These 
facts  cannot  be  successfully  contradicted. 

After  the  battle  of  Bull  Run,  General  Schenck  was  given 
the  command  of  a  brigade  under  General  Rosecrans,  in  West 
Virginia,  and  took  active  part  in  the  campaign  on  Xew  and 
Kanawha  Rivers.  At  the  mouth  of  the  Gauley,  subsequently 
at  Cumberland,  Maryland,  and  at  other  places  during  this  time, 
he  did  good  service.  From  Cumberland  he  marched  under 
orders  up  the  South  Branch  of  the  Potomac,  occupying  a 
number  of  important  positions  on  that  line  of  operations. 
While  engaged  in  this  service  he  was  suddenly  ordered  to 
the  relief  of  General  Milroy,  who,  at  McDowell,  was,  with  his 
command  of  about  4000  men,  hard-pressed.  In  order  to  give 
the  necessary  aid  General  Schenck's  command  was  obliged 
to  cross  the  South  Branch  of  the  Potomac,  which,  at  its  shal- 
lowest point,  was  three  feet  deep  and  running  rapidly.  This 
service  he  performed  without  serious  loss.  The  march  was 
continued  all  night,  and  after  a  feint  of  strength,  which  was 
accomplished  successfully,  Milroy's  little  army,  with  its  bag- 
gage-trains and  equipments,  was  safely  escorted  to  Franklin, 
with  but  slight  loss.  The  service  which  General  Schenck  ren- 
dered in  the  matter  was  highly  creditable.     Incidentally  it  may 


The  Recollections  of  a  Veteran.  249 

be  mentioned  that  this  fact  was  warmly  acknowledged  by  the 
Commander-in-chief  of  the  department. 

A  number  of  engagements  immediately  followed  that  de- 
scribed until  the  second  battle  of  Bull  Run,  when  General 
Schenck  displayed  commendable  gallantry  and  a  discretion 
which  was  hardly  to  have  been  expected  from  one  of  his  fiery 
and  impetuous  nature.  In  that  fight,  while  in  the  thickest  of 
the  conflict,  expending  his  great  fund  of  personal  magnetism  to 
encourage  and  urge  on  his  men,  he  was  shot  through  the  right 
wrist,  and  the  sword  which  he  held  aloft  dropped  from  his 
hand.  The  imprecations  which  he  at  this  moment  levelled  at 
the  enemy  need  not  now  be  repeated.  It  is  only  necessary  to 
say  that,  much  against  his  will — his  objection  being  because  of 
the  loss  of  his  sword — he  was  carried  from  the  field,  and  subse- 
quently taken  to  Washington.  After  he  had  been  there  some 
days,  suffering  greatly  from  his  wound,  his  orderly  brought  him 
the  sword  which  he  had  lost  on  the  battle-field.  It  was  event- 
ually discovered  that  as  the  brand  fell  from  the  hand  of  the 
General  it  was  caught  by  Private  Pugh,  of  the  Fifty-fifth  Ohio 
Regiment,  who,  in  slight  degree  emulating  the  spirit  and  dash 
of  his  commander,  guarded  it  safely,  and  declared  that  he  would 
be  blank-blanked  if  the  rebels  should  ever  get  "  the  old  man's 
best  sword." 

After  this,  while  General  Schenck  was  still  suffering  from  his 
wounds,  he  received,  "  for  meritorious  and  gallant  conduct  at 
the  battle  of  Cross  Keys  and  the  battle  near  Centreville,  on  the 
3d  of  August,"  the  commission  which  made  him  a  Major-gen- 
eral in  the  Union  service.  Accompanying  the  commission  was 
the  following  note,  written  by  the  hand  of  the  Secretary  of 
War: 

"War  Department,  Washington  City,  September  18, 1S62. 
"My  dear  Sir, — No  official  act  has  been  performed  by  me  with  more 
pleasure  than  the  just  tribute  to  your  ability  and  patriotism  by  the  en- 
closed appointment  to  the  rank  of  Major-general  for  gallant  and  meritori- 
ous service  to  your  country.     It  is  my  hope  your  health  may  soon  permit 

11* 


250  Twelve  Americans. 

you  to  accept  a  command  befitting  the  rank.     My  regret  for  the  painful 
suffering  you  now  endure  from  the  wound  received  on  the  field  of  battle  is 
enhanced  by  the  need  the  Government  has  at  this  moment  for  your  ser- 
vice.    With  sincere  regard,  I  am  your  friend,  Edwin  M.  Staxtox. 
''To  Major-general  Schexck." 

Unfortunately  for  the  country  and  for  General  Schenck,  the 
wish  expressed  in  this  note  of  the  Secretary  of  War  -was  not 
fulfilled.  His  arm  was  permanently  disabled  by  tbe  wound  he 
had  received — he  is  a  cripple  to  tbis  day — and  be  was  not  able 
again  to  devote  himself  to  active  service  until  after  tbe  lapse 
of  six  months. 

While  he  was  thus  lying  upon  a  bed  of  sickness  it  was  sug- 
gested tbat  his  great  experience  in  complicated  civil  affairs 
well  fitted  him  for  tbe  command  of  the  annoying  Middle  De- 
partment, which  included  Baltimore  and  tbe  Maryland  hot-beds 
of  rebel  sympathizers.  He  assumed  command  of  that  depart- 
ment on  the  22d  of  December,  1862.  In  doing  so  he  issued  a 
brief,  terse,  and  direct  general  order,  which  was  thoroughly 
characteristic.  In  it  he  stated  that  in  the  contest  growing  out 
of  the  rebellion  there  could  be  no  middle  ground,  but  two  dis- 
tinct sides,  tbe  loyal  and  the  disloyal,  the  latter  including  all 
those  who  aided  or  sympathized  with  the  rebellion.  In  addi- 
tion he  plainly  said  that  "any  public  or  open  demonstrations 
or  declarations  of  sympathy  with  treason  would  provoke  a 
strict  and  needful  observation  of  the  conduct  of  the  party  of- 
fending, and  lead  even  to  punishment  or  restraint,  if  accompa- 
nied by  acts  of  complicity  or  anything  tending  to  danger  or  dis- 
order." This  regulation  was  certainly  plain  enough,  and,  as  the 
event  proved,  it  was  with  tbe  utmost  strictness  enforced  by  the 
straightforward  officer  who  had  promulgated  it.  In  every  case 
where  violations  of  his  orders  were  reported  to  him  he  brought 
the  guilty  party  to  a  strict  account.  This  he  did  notably  in 
the  case  of  a  Baltimore  clergyman,  who  tore  down  and  tram- 
pled upon  the  American  flag  in  a  public  assembly-room  where 


The  Recollections  of  a  Veteran.  2  5 1 

his  congregation  usually  met.  The  reverend  rebel  was  prompt- 
ly arrested,  and,  despite  his  cloth,  was  held  in  durance  until  he 
gave  pledges  for  future  good  conduct. 

In  regard  to  this  portion  of  General  Schenck's  service  in  the 
Middle  Department,  an  appreciative  critic  has  since  written : 
"A  volume  might  be  filled  with  instances  of  General  Schenck's 
treatment  of  treasonable  practices,  and  of  the  sagacity  and 
adroitness  with  which  he  enforced  his  rule." 

A  single  example  may  be  given,  showing  how  he  encounter- 
ed what  commanders  in  disloyal  districts  came  to  designate  as 
the  "  woman  difficulty."  Men  dared  not  insult  the  soldiers ; 
women  could  and  did  with  impunity,  relying  on  their  sex  to 
protect  them.  In  Baltimore  they  were  particularly  virulent. 
Finally  they  came  to  wearing  the  rebel  colors,  flauntingly  dis- 
played, taking  care  to  promenade  the  streets  in  great  numbers 
on  any  occasion  when  such  a  display  might  be  particularly 
annoying. 

For  his  action  regarding  another  phase  of  this  difficulty 
General  Butler,  at  New  Orleans,  brought  down  upon  himself 
unmeasured  odium  by  his  maladroit  "  woman-of-the-town"  or- 
der. General  Schenck  made  a  more  skilful  use  of  the  same 
means.  A  number  of  the  most  abandoned  women  were  se- 
lected. Each  was  instructed  to  array  herself  as  elegantly  as 
possible,  to  wear  the  rebel  colors  conspicuously  displayed  upon 
her  bosom,  and  to  spend  her  time  promenading  the  most  fash- 
ionable streets  of  the  city.  Whenever  she  met  any  one  of 
the  ladies  of  Baltimore  wearing  a  similar  badge  she  was  to 
salute  her  affectionately,  as  a  "  sister  in  the  holy  cause,"  and 
for  these  services  she  was  to  be  liberally  paid.  The  effect  was 
marvellous.  In  less  than  a  week  not  a  respectable  woman  in 
Baltimore  dared  to  show  herself  in  public  ornamented  by  any 
badge  of  the  rebellion.  From  that  time  to  the  end  of  Schenck's 
administration  the  "  woman  difficulty  "  was  settled. 


252  Twelve  Americans. 


V. 

HARD   WORK   IX   CONGRESS. 

After  suck  service  in  the  Middle  Department,  General 
Schenck,  having  been  elected  to  Congress  over  Yallandigham 
from  the  Third  District  of  Ohio,  on  the  5th  of  December, 
1S63,  resigned  his  commission  in  the  army.  Upon  re-assum- 
ing his  seat  in  the  legislative  hall  where  he  had  formerly 
served  with  such  distinction,  he  was  appointed  Chairman  of 
the  Committee  on  Military  Affairs,  and  during  the  eight  follow- 
ing years  his  name  was  closely  identified  with  the  history  of 
the  nation's  Legislature.  During  the  war  he  was  particularly 
noticeable  for  his  steady  patriotism,  his  unflinching  and  out- 
spoken opposition  to  everything  which  smacked  of  treason, 
and  his  advocacy  of  the  rights  of  the  volunteers  against  what 
he  believed  to  be  the  encroachments  of  the  regulars.  Doing 
such  service  he  naturally  won  many  friends,  and  at  the  same 
time,  as  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  add,  not  a  few  enemies. 

A  number  of  his  peculiar  characteristics  most  prominent  at 
this  time  were  well  displayed  in  his  celebrated  debate  with  Fer- 
nando Wood  in  the  spring  of  1S64.  That  debate  was  in  re- 
gard to  the  resolution  calling  for  the  expulsion  of  Mr.  Alexan- 
der Long.  During  its  progress  Mr.  Wood  made  a  speech  which 
was  particularly  obnoxious  to  the  Republicans,  and  Mr.  Schenck, 
in  replying,  with  much  vehemence  and  all  his  own  peculiar  en- 
ergy, spoke  as  follows : 

"A  student  in  natural  history  would  have  much  to  learn  on  this  floor. 
Some  specimens  of  the  snake  family  are  so  slippery  it  is  impossible  to 
classify  them  or  hold  them  to  any  position.  I  find  myself  at  a  great  loss 
to  understand  what  ground  is  occupied  by  the  member  from  New  York 
■who  has  just  taken  his  seat.  He  avows  that  he  disagrees  with  the  posi- 
tion taken  by  the  member  from  Maryland  (Mr.  Harris),  who  was  on  Satur- 
day visited  with  the  censure  of  the  House;  he  dissents  from  the  argu- 
ments and  propositions  of  my  colleague  (Mr.  Long),  whose  case  we  are 
now  considering.     And  yet  he  says  to  his  fellow-Copperheads — those,  if 


The  Recollections  of  a  Veteran.  253 

any  there  are,  who  crawl  with  him — that  there  is  no  such  thing  as  a  War 
Democrat,  for  a  creation  of  that  kind  is  anomalous !  I  may  be  pardoned, 
therefore,  if  I  have  difficulty  in  comprehending  his  own  nature.  But  at 
the  close  of  his  remarks  the  member  from  New  York  seemed  in  some 
small  degree  to  develop  his  peculiar  views  and  purposes.  Being  neither 
against  the  war  nor  for  the  war,  he  would  send  Commissioners  to  Rich- 
mond to  treat  with  those  arrayed  in  arms  against  the  country,  to  offer 
them  terms  of  peace.  How  many  others  on  his  side  of  the  House  may 
agree  with  him  I  know  not.  But  I  know  this :  whenever  any  such  prop- 
ositions of  Northern  Democrats  have  appeared  in  print,  their  offers  or 
suggestions  of  peace  have  invariably  been  received  by  the  rebels  at  Rich- 
mond with  scoffing  and  repelled  with  scorn.  The  member  and  his  friends, 
then,  are  willing  and  propose  to  crawl  on  their  bellies  to  the  feet  of  rebels 
and  insurgents  in  arms,  and,  looking  up  piteously,  to  say :  '  Oh,  our  mas- 
ters !  notwithstanding  all  your  scoffing  and  scorn,  though  you  may  spurn 
us  from  your  presence,  we  implore  you  to  say  whether  you  will  not  agree 
to  make  some  terms  with  us.'  I  cannot  comprehend  this  abasement  in 
any  other  way.  Thank  God,  I  belong  to  no  such  party  as  that !  For  the 
sake  of  manhood  and  humanity  I  would  not  trust  too  far  those  who  do. 
I  never  will  make  peace  with  armed  rebels.  I  am  for  concluding  no 
treaties,  holding  no  conferences  with  insurgent  States  claiming  to  an  inde- 
pendent and  separate  nationality.  I  believe  that  the  only  safety  for  this 
country  consists  in  fighting  this  war  to  the  end ;  in  suppressing  this  rebel- 
lion so  effectively  that  its  hydra  head  will  never  again  be  raised  in  the 
land.  Upon  this  middle  ground,  upon  which  the  member  from  New  York 
selects  his  uncertain  footing,  is  the  dark,  oozy,  unwholesome  soil  between 
the  solid  earth  on  either  hand,  over  which  unclassified  Copperheads  do 
creep  and  mark  their  slimy  and  doubtful  track.  When  our  difficulties 
with  the  South  were  ripening  into  war,  when  hostilities  were  actually  com- 
menced, when  it  was  not  known  how  far  disaffection  might  extend  through- 
out the  several  States  of  the  Union,  there  was  a  Mayor  of  New  York  who 
proposed  that  the  city  should  secede  from  the  Government  and  set  up  for 
itself  as  a  free  city." 

At  this  point  Fernando  Wood,  with  much  excitement,  cried 
out,  "  Mr.  Speaker !"  but  Mr.  Schenck,  resisting  the  attempted 
interruption,  continued : 

"  I  cannot  be  interrupted,  sir,  but  will  continue,  as  the  member  insisted 
upon  doing  just  now  when  others  sought  to  interrupt  him.  Not  that 
alone,  sir.  The  same  Mayor  of  New  York,  after  rebellion  was  rampant, 
when  boxes  filled  with  arms  were  stopped  by  the  loyal  city  authorities  on 
the  wharves  of  New  York,  and  not  permitted  to  go  South,  that  weapons 
might  be  put  into  the  hands  of  those  who  were  seeking  to  overthrow  the 


254  Twelve  Americans. 

Government  of  the  country — that  same  Mayor  regretted  that  he  had  no 
power  over  the  matter,  or  he  would  gladly  prevent  any  interference  with 
such  transmission  of  these  munitions  of  war." 

Again,  at  the  end  of  this  sentence,  Mr.  Wood,  with  increased 
excitement,  exclaimed,  "  Mr.  Speaker !"  but  General  Schenck, 
■waving  him  aside,  continued  : 

"  Oh  yes,  I  know  that  this  has  been  denied  here  recently  by  that  mem- 
ber on  this  floor,  and,  without  hearing  him  now,  I  give  him  the  benefit  of 
that  denial ;  but  he  shall  also  have  the  benefit  of  the  positive  proof  pro- 
duced and  published  widely  in  the  papers  of  New  York  a  few  days  after- 
ward, nailing  upon  him  the  falsity  of  the  denial  which  he  presented  to  the 
House." 

"  Mr.  Speaker !"  again  shouted  Mr.  Wood. 

"  I  am  not  to  be  interrupted  by  that  member,"  continued 
General  Schenck. 

"  The  gentleman  states — "  shouted  Wood,  but  before  he  could 
go  farther  General  Schenck  effectually  silenced  him  by  the 
exclamation,  "  Oh !  I  have  met  rebels  before,  when  they  had 
something  more  than  tongues  with  which  to  contend,  and  I 
am  not  to  be  interrupted  and  be  put  down  by  the  member 
from  New  York."  Then  he  went  on  to  give  proof  of  his 
charges.  Afterward  he  referred  to  Mr.  Wood's  appearance  as 
a  War  Democrat  at  the  great  Union  meeting  in  New  York 
which  followed  the  fall  of  Sumter,  and  in  that  connection 
said : 

"I  say,  therefore,  that  I  do  not  know  what  kind  of  a  War  Democrat  lie 
may  be  hereafter — whether  he  will  be  against  his  own  people  and  the 
Government  of  the  United  States,  as  he  is  now,  or  against  the  insurgents, 
as  he  was  then.  His  present  profession  is  neither,  but  to  crawl  along  the 
border  between  the  two.  He  would  propose  terms  of  peace,  and  that 
peace  he  would  offer  to  those  who  scorn  him.  But  he  will  still  press 
upon  them  his  good  offices.  He  sings  the  siren  song  of  peace  for  the 
effect  it  may  have  at  home.  For  that  he  is  willing  to  crawl  prostrate  to 
the  feet  of  insurgents  in  arms  and  say  to  them,  '  Do  with  us  as  you  will ; 
tear  from  the  flag  of  our  glorious  Union  half  its  gleaming  stripes ;  blot 
out  as  many  of  those  stars  as  you  can  reach  and  extinguish ;  only  join 
us  again,  that  you  may  help  us  to  save  the  Democratic  Party,  so  that  we 


The  Recollections  of  a  Veteran.  255 

may  hereafter,  as  heretofore,  enjoy  power  and  the  offices  together.  For 
these  we  will  humble  ourselves  as  none  of  God's  creatures  ever  humbled 
themselves  before.' 

"  I  can  understand  how  in  the  Revolution,  when  these  States,  then  Colo- 
nies, broke  away  from  the  mother  country,  many  a  man  who  was  attached 
to  monarchical  institutions,  fearful  of  rushing  upon  the  untried  experi- 
ment of  a  new  form  of  government,  to  be  reached  through  the  horrors  of 
war,  might  have  shrunk  back  and  been  a  Tory  of  that  day.  But  how, 
after  the  better  part  of  a  century  has  gone  by,  and  this  great  Government, 
under  the  Constitution  adopted  at  the  close  of  that  Revolution,  has  gone 
on  prospering  and  to  prosper ;  when  it  has  made  its  mark  high  on  the  roll 
of  nations,  and  the  hopes  of  a  world  have  clustered  around  it — how  any 
one  with  this  history  of  this  triumph  can  to-day  doubt,  or  distrust,  or 
bargain  away  his  country's  nationality,  is  more  than  I  can  comprehend. 
Sir,  I  declare  that  in  my  opinion  the  worst  Tory  of  the  Revolution  was  a 
patriot  and  gentleman  compared  with  the  Copperheads  of  1864. 

"  Mr.  Speaker,  we  are  in  the  presence  of  the  enemy.  Every  man  in  this 
Union  is,  in  a  legal  sense,  a  citizen-soldier.  Our  people  are  either  in  the 
lines  of  the  Union  army  in  front,  facing  and  fighting  the  foe,  or  they  are 
in  the  rear,  striving  by  every  means  possible  to  strengthen  and  advance 
the  common  cause.  Now,  if  a  soldier,  marching  with  the  army  toward  the 
enemy,  or  holding  his  place  in  the  line  of  battle,  should  turn  to  his  com- 
rades  about  him,  saying  to  one, '  We  cannot  beat  the  enemy ;'  to  another, 
'  We  had  better  lay  down  our  arms  ;'  to  another, '  Our  cause  is  wrong,  and 
we  can  never  conquer ;'  to  another, '  Let  us  demand  of  our  commanding 
officers  to  stop  shedding  blood,  and  have  a  truce  between  the  two  armies ' — 
if  a  soldier  at  such  a  time  should  thus  talk  in  the  ranks,  what  would  you 
do  with  him  ?  You  would  shoot  him  on  the  spot.  And  is  a  citizen-sol- 
dier, who  undertakes  to  breed  distraction  in  the  country,  who  claims  that 
we  cannot  put  down  the  rebellion,  who  insists  that  the  rebellion  is  alto- 
gether right  and  justifiable,  who  would  temporize,  who  would  compromise, 
who  would  have  his  Government  debased  to  the  condition  of  begging  from 
the  insurgents — is  lie  less  deserving  execration  and  punishment  ?  We 
may  not  execute  such  a  man,  perhaps,  on  his  appropriate  gallows  erected 
for  criminals.  Yet,  thank  God  !  there  is  a  gibbet  of  public  opinion  on 
which  we  can  hang  him  as  high  as  Haman,  and  hold  him  there,  to  the 
scorn  of  all  the  nations  of  the  world." 

A  gentleman  who  was  an  eye-witness  of  tins  extraordinary 
scene,  writing  to  one  of  the  newspapers  of  the  day,  said  of 
General  Schenck  :  "Standing  there,  square,  compact,  and  mus- 
cular, his  shattered  right  hand  hanging  idle  at  his  side,  or 
thrust  nervously  into  the  breast  of  his  closely-buttoned  coat, 


256  Twelve  Americans. 

after  a  forgetful  attempt  to  use  it  in  gesticulation,  the  sharp- 
ly cut  sentences  rattling  like  well-delivered  volleys,  one  cannot 
help  thinking  of  him  as  one  of  those  old  knights  fresh  from 
honorable  fields  who  were  used,  with  all  their  armor  on,  to  en- 
ter the  old  councils  and  bring  something  of  the  sharp  clang  of 
war  to  the  stern  debate." 

But  General  Scbenck's  attention  while  in  Congress  was 
not  altogether  devoted  to  denunciation  of  rebellion,  rebels,  and 
rebel  sympathizers. 

When  he  became  Chairman  of  the  Committee  of  Ways  and 
Means  he  hastened  to  introduce  in  the  House  of  Representa- 
tives a  bill  providing  for  the  refunding  of  the  public  debt  by 
the  issue  of  bonds  of  small  denomination,  to  run  a  long  time, 
at  a  low  rate  of  interest.  He  appears  to  have  been  the  earli- 
est, as  well  as  always  the  most  persistent,  advocate  of  the  re- 
duction of  interest  on  the  securities  of  the  Government ;  and 
afterward,  when  a  funding  bill  from  the  Senate  was  under  con- 
sideration, he  proposed,  through  his  committee,  to  amend  the 
measure  in  conformity  with  these  views.  In  the  discussion  on 
the  amendment  thus  offered,  on  the  lVth  of  June,  1868,  Mr. 
Schenck  said: 

"  Many  persons  think  that  our  legislation  at  any  rate  will  be  fruitless, 
because  we  propose  to  put  a  bond  at  so  low  a  rate  of  interest  upon  the 
market;  but  if  we  can  accomplish  no  other  object  than  to  record  a  decla- 
ration upon  the  subject  of  interest  in  this  country  upon  our  public  secu- 
rities, by  way  of  an  entering  wedge,  we  shall  have  done  something  very 
considerable.  Up  to  this  time  the  United  States  has  exhibited  the  spec- 
tacle among  the  principal  commercial  nations  of  the  world  of  paying  a 
higher  rate  of  interest  than  any  other,  while  at  the  same  time  ours  is  a 
country  and  a  people  with  more  magnificent  resources,  not  in  the  present 
only  or  altogether,  but  in  the  future,  and  with  more  prospect  of  growth 
than  any  other  nation  in  the  world." 

Despite  what  has  been  said  to  the  contrary,  it  was  almost 
entirely  due  to  General  Schenck  that  the  bill  to  strengthen 
the  public  credit  (much  talked  of  in  those  days)  became  a  law. 
Lest  certain  carping  critics  may  object  to  this  statement,  it 


The  Recollections  of  a  Veteran.  257 

will  be  well  to  give  the  following  short,  though  carefully  pre- 
pared, history  of  that  act. 

In  the  House  of  Representatives,  February  20,  1869,  General 
Schenek  rose  to  a  privileged  question,  and  called  up  the  motion 
to  reconsider  the  vote  by  which  the  House  referred  the  bill  to 
strengthen  the  public  credit  to  the  Ways  and  Means  Commit- 
tee, but  before  the  question  was  put  yielded  for  an  adjourn- 
ment. On  the  22d  he  addressed  the  House  at  length.  He 
admitted  at  the  outset  that  the  natural  criticism  on  the  pro- 
posed act  of  legislation  would  be,  that  "  there  was  very  little  in 
it,"  but  it  was  a  step  or»two  in  the  right  direction.  After  al- 
luding to  various  "nostrums"  and  "prescriptions"  with  which 
the  committee  had  been  furnished  to  relieve  the  nation  of  its 
embarrassments,  he  gave  utterance  to  the  following : 

"  Eight  months  ago,  when  presenting  from  my  committee  a  general  bill 
for  the  regulation  and  collection  of  internal  taxes,  I  had  occasion  to  speak, 
incidentally,  of  the  financial  condition.  I  said  then,  what  I  still  believe 
and  now  repeat,  that  however  we  may  dispute  in  regard  to  the  changing 
of  one  form  of  public  securities  for  another,  the  amount  or  volume  of  cur- 
rency to  be  kept  up,  or  the  contraction  to  be  made,  viewing  this  financial 
question  in  all  its  lights,  there  is,  after  all,  but  one  way  in  which  the  debt 
of  this  country  is  to  be  paid — it  is  to  be  viorhed  out.  The  industry  of  the 
people,  the  productions  of  our  labor  and  of  our  soil,  are  eventually  to  pay 
it.  Off  the  stage,  with  its  fictions  and  illusions,  there  is  to  be  found  no 
'  new  way  to  pay  old  debts.'  " 

He  then  dwelt  on  the  evidences  of  the  nation's  ability  to 
meet  its  obligations,  as  shown  by  the  annually  increasing  rev- 
enues and  value  of  agricultural  products. 

On  the  24th  of  February,  1869,  the  bill  passed  the  House — 
yeas,  120;  nays,  60 — 42  not  voting. 

The  House  refused,  on  the  2d  of  March,  to  concur  in  the 
Senate's  amendments  to  the  bill,  and  asked  a  conference  with 
the  Senate ;  and  on  the  3d  both  Houses  agreed  to  the  confer- 
ence report,  in  which,  with  slight  changes  of  phraseology,  the 
original  House  bill  was  sustained.      The  bill,  however,  failed 


258  Twelve  Americans. 

to  receive  the  signature  of  President  Johnson,  and  thus,  by  a 
"  pocket  veto,"  failed.  Early,  however,  in  the  Forty-first  Con- 
gress, -which  then  immediately  followed,  Mr.  Schenck  again  in- 
troduced the  bill  which  had  thus  been  defeated,  the  second  sec- 
tion of  which,  relating  to  contracts  made  specifically  payable  in 
coin,  was,  with  his  acquiescence,  stricken  out,  and  the  bill  thus 
amended  became  a  law — the  first  to  which  President  Grant  at- 
tached his  signature.  The  whole  history  of  the  legislation  in 
reference  to  this  initiatory  step  toward  resumption  proves  that 
General  Schenck  was  its  originator  and  champion. 

As  will  be  observed,  he  referred,  pending  the  introduction 
of  the  bill  to  strengthen  the  public  credit,  to  his  views  ex- 
pressed incidentally  in  his  remarks  on  the  tax  bill  which  he 
reported  in  the  previous  session,  quoting  his  unchanged  belief 
that  the  debt  must  be  paid  by  the  productive  labor  of  the 
country.  In  that  speech  he  presented  facts  in  regard  to  the 
maladministration  of  the  revenue  laws  and  submitted  remedial 
propositions  which  were  the  result  not  only  of  a  grasping  in- 
tellect but  of  ceaseless,  untiring  investigation. 

The  object  to  be  attained,  General  Schenck  frequently  re- 
marked at  the  time,  was  to  "  equalize  the  taxes,  as  far  as  pos- 
sible, upon  the  industry  of  the  country,  while  yielding  sufficient 
revenue  for  the  needs  of  the  Government." 

Regarding  General  Schenck's  important  Congressional  ser- 
vices it  is  hardly  necessary  to  write  farther,  nor  need  there  be 
anything  said  in  regard  to  his  unsuccessful  contest  for  the 
United  States  Senatorship. 

VI. 

AT  THE  COURT  OF  ST.  JAMES'S.— AFTER  THE  FIGHT. 

In  1870,  while  still  a  member  of  the  House,  General  Schenck 
was  appointed  by  President  Grant  to  be  United  States  Minister 
to  England.  Before  he  took  his  departure,  however,  he  was 
largely  instrumental  in  bringing  about  the  Treaty  of  Washing- 


The  Recollections  of  a  Veteran.  259 

ton,  which  subsequently  resulted  in  the  peaceful  settlement  of 
the  difficulties  between  England  and  America  by  the  Geneva 
arbitration.  Though  others  have  permitted  themselves  to  take 
credit  for  this  happy  ending  to  what  might  have  been  a  san- 
guinary conflict,  it  can  be  abundantly  proved  that  to  General 
Schenck  belongs  the  largest  share  of  honor  for  the  satisfac- 
tory conclusion  of  the  dispute.  Upon  this  point  it  has  been 
stated,  with  much  truth,  upon  the  floor  of  the  House,  that 
"on  the  15th  of  December,  1871,  the  'American  case,'  which 
had  been  prepared  by  Mr.  Bancroft  Davis,  and  which  contain- 
ed an  argument  in  favor  of  what  was  known  as  the  '  indirect 
claims,'  was  laid  before  the  tribunal  which  then  first  assembled 
at  Geneva.  About  a  month  later  great  dissatisfaction  began 
to  be  expressed  in  England,  accompanied  by  heated  discussions 
in  the  Press  and  in  Parliament,  that  the  'indirect  claims'  had 
been  included  in  the  American  case.  On  the  3d  of  February, 
1872,  the  British  Ministry  officially  announced  that  they  had 
not  expected  that  the  'indirect  claims'  would  be  presented  at 
Geneva,  and  that  they  could  not  consent  to  have  those  claims 
considered.  The  irritation  of  the  two  countries  growing  out 
of  this  difference  of  opinion  as  to  the  scope  of  the  treaty  con- 
tinued to  increase  until  the  early  part  of  May.  At  the  close 
of  a  conference  of  several  hours,  on  the  evening  of  the  9th  of 
May,  Lord  Granville  stated  to  General  Schenck  as  they  parted 
that,  while  he  did  not  wish  to  utter  anything  like  a  menace,  he 
did  not  think  that  the  chances  of  an  agreement  between  the 
two  countries  were  favorable."  General  Schenck  replied  that 
he  was  of  the  same  opinion. 

That  night,  as  he  has  since  related,  he  could  not  sleep.  He 
was  pained  beyond  measure  that  the  outcome  of  so  much  ne- 
gotiation should  be  failure,  accompanied  by  increased  bitter- 
ness and  hostility. 

The  next  morning  he  resolved  to  make  one  more  effort.  He 
commenced  writing  a  short  but  clear  and  vigorous  statement 


260  Twefoe  Americans. 

of  the  position  of  our  Government  in  regard  to  the  "indirect 
claims."  Learning  that  a  Cabinet  meeting  -was  in  progress,  he 
resolved  not  to  await  its  conclusion,  but  called  upon  Lord  Gran- 
ville, at  the  Foreign  Office,  and  delivered  to  him  so  much  of  the 
paper  he  was  preparing  as  had  been  copied,  afterward  furnish- 
ing him  with  the  rest.  It  was  this  statement  of  our  Minister, 
presented  by  him  in  person,  with  an  earnest  expression  of  his 
desire  to  save  the  treaty — a  desire  which  Lord  Granville  fully 
shared  with  him — that  induced  the  British  Cabinet  to  post- 
pone unfavorable  action  and  to  continue  their  representation 
at  Geneva.  It  was  "a  moment  when  the  right  word  heartily 
spoken  saves  nations  from  years  of  calamity." 

Early  in  June,  General  Schenck  delivered  to  Mr.  Charles 
Francis  Adams  (then  on  his  way  to  Geneva)  a  memorandum  in 
regard  to  the  "  indirect  claims,"  which  was  made  the  basis  fur 
the  settlement  of  that  troublesome  question  by  the  tribunal, 
On  the  15th  of  June,  1872,  the  tribunal  reassembled  at  Geneva, 
and  on  the  27th  of  that  month  all  serious  difficulties  between 
the  two  countries  were  removed  by  the  decision  that  the  "indi- 
rect claims  "  should  be  wholly  excluded  from  its  consideration. 
Thus,  through  the  judicious  and  unremitting  efforts  of  our 
representative  to  England,  the  Treaty  of  Washington  was  suc- 
cessful— an  event  for  which  not  only  England  and  America, 
but  all  mankind,  have  reason  to  be  thankful. 

General  Schenck  remained  as  the  American  Minister  to  Eng- 
land for  five  years.  He  won  a  host  of  friends  abroad,  and,  be- 
cause of  his  straightforwardness  of  speech  and  honesty  of  man- 
ner, made  a  number  of  bitter  enemies.  The  latter  followed 
him  relentlessly ;  and  two  or  three  of  them — members  of  the 
Press — strove  diligently,  and  with  some  success,  to  blacken  his 
public  character  in  the  eyes  of  unthinking  people.  This  they 
did  principally  in  connection  with  the  Emma  Mine  matter,  and 
the  trumped-up  story  that  General  Schenck  had  written  a  book 
on  the  game  of  "draw  poker."    Regarding  the  mining  affair  the 


The  Recollections  of  a  Veteran.  261 

following  may  be  said.  It  was  thoroughly  and  impartially  in- 
vestigated by  a  committee  of  Congress,  and  by  that  committee 
it  was  declared  that,  while  he  had  bought  and  sold  a  number  of 
shares  of  stock  in  the  mining  company,  General  Schenck  had 
done  nothing  reflecting  either  upon  his  honesty  or  his  honor. 
At  the  same  time,  however,  the  committee  took  occasion  to 
condemn  all  such  transactions  in  stocks  on  the  part  of  Amer- 
ican officials  abroad.  Subsequently,  when  the  matter  under- 
went a  judicial  investigation  —  which  was  continued  in  New 
York  for  many  weeks — Judge  Wallace,  of  the  United  States 
Circuit  Court,  in  his  charge  to  the  jury  said  that,  whatever  else 
might  appear  from  the  testimony,  it  was  at  least  clear  that  no 
part  of  the  evidence  could  be  held  in  the  slightest  degree  to 
throw  a  shadow  on  the  integrity  of  General  Schenck.  It  may 
be  added  that  the  General  never  profited  a  dollar  by  the  min- 
ing transaction.     He  is  to-day  a  poor  man. 

As  to  the  story  that  General  Schenck  wrote  a  book  on  what 
may  be  called  the  American  national  game  at  cards,  the  fol- 
lowing truthful  and  interesting  statement  may  now  be  made. 

Among  the  more  intelligent  and  progressive  English  ladies 
and  gentlemen  with  whom  his  official  and  social  duties  brought 
him  in  contact  the  General  was  most  popular.  He  was  particu- 
larly well  received  at  the  house  of  the  Countess  Waldegrave. 
One  evening,  while  visiting  at  this  lady's  country  seat,  she  said 
to  him, 

"  General  Schenck,  will  you  not  have  the  goodness  to  jot 
down  for  me  the  rules  of  this  famous  American  game  of  poker, 
of  which  I  hear  so  much  ?" 

"  Certainly,  madam,"  replied  the  Minister.  "  I  shall  with 
pleasure  give  you  all  the  information  I  have  on  the  subject." 

Nothing  more  was  said  about  the  matter  for  the  moment, 
but  the  next  morning,  before  leaving  for  London,  the  Gen- 
eral hastily  made  such  notes  as  he  could  regarding  the  game 
in  which   Lady  Waldegrave    was    interested.      She,  for    the 


262  Twelve  Americans. 

convenience  of  her  friends,  caused  these  notes  to  be  printed 
upon  a  private  printing-press  which  she  had  in  her  own  house. 
This  was  absolutely  the  only  foundation  for  the  lying  story  to 
the  effect  that  the  American  Minister  had  written  a  book  on 
draw  poker — a  story,  by-the-way,  which  originated  in  the  brain 
of  an  American  newspaper  correspondent,  who,  for  some  real  or 
fancied  slight,  desired  to  be  revenged  upon  General  Schenck. 

Of  the  latter  years  of  the  old  statesman's  life  it  is  not  now 
necessary  to  write  at  length.  He  returned  from  England  in 
1876.  Then,  being  well  on  toward  seventy  years  of  age,  and 
tired  of  public  service,  he  refused  a  renomination  for  Congress 
from  the  district  which  had  ever  remained  true  to  him,  and  for 
two  years  devoted  himself  to  his  private  affairs.  At  the  end 
of  that  time  he  was  affected  with  a  severe  illness,  from  which 
he  has  never  entirely  recovered.  Now,  racked  with  pain,  he 
spends  most  of  his  time  upon  a  sick-bed.  Yet,  despite  his 
many  ailments,  he  is  calmly  contented — so  content  by  the  con- 
sciousness that  he  has  always  served  his  country  faithfully  and 
to  the  best  of  his  ability.  Robert  C.  Schenck  has,  all  things 
considered,  been  more  abused  than  any  man  who  has  occupied 
equal  prominence  in  the  e}'es  of  the  American  people ;  but  no 
man  can  with  truth  assert  that  he  ever  unduly  sought  an  office, 
nor  can  it  be  said  Avithout  the  widest  departure  from  truth 
that  he  was  ever  knowingly  engaged  in  any  corrupt  scheme, 
that  he  ever  derived  personal  profit  from  his  public  positions, 
or  that  he  ever  failed  to  serve  his  Government,  his  constituents, 
and  the  Union,  which  he  loves  so  well,  faithfully,  conscien- 
tiously, untiringly,  and  with  all  the  force  of  his  deep,  strong, 
energetic  nature. 


Through  Slavery  to  Fame. 


V 


■        ,         '  ■     .  ■■":.      ■  '         '..■; 


FREDERICK    DOUGLASS. 


Through  Slavery  to  Fame. 


FREDERICK  DOUGLASS. 


"THE   GOOD   OLD   SLAVERY   DAYS." 

Overlooking  the  Potomac  River,  on  a  hill,  about  three 
miles  from  the  Capitol,  at  Washington,  there  is  situated  a 
strongly -built  and  commodious  old  family  mansion.  Origi- 
nally a  man  named  Van  Hook — the  proprietor  of  much  of  the 
surrounding  country — made  this  house  his  home.  After  a  time 
the  settlement  now  known  as  Union  Town  began  to  spring  up 
at  the  foot  of  the  hill  and  around  the  mansion.  Then,  taking- 
advantage  of  the  increase  in  the  value  of  property  which  natu- 
rally followed,  Van  Hook  divided  up  his  broad  fields  into  build- 
ing lots,  sold  them  to  advantage,  and,  good  negro-hater  that  he 
was,  inserted  in  every  deed  which  he  gave  a  carefully-worded 
stipulation  that  no  colored  man  should  ever  be  permitted  to 
purchase  house  or  lot  in  the  neighborhood.  Alas,  the  impo- 
tence of  human  will !  Despite  Mr.  Van  Hook's  carefully-word- 
ed stipulation,  the  manor-house  in  question,  the  very  house 
which  was  his,  together  with  the  hill  upon  which  it  is  situated, 
is  now  owned  and  occupied  by  a  colored  man,  who  was  a  slave 
— a  man  who  bears  upon  his  back  scars  from  the  lashes  of 
overseers'  whips ;  a  man  who  was  at  one  time  a  fugitive  from 
what  was  then  called  "justice;"  a  man  who  subsequently  won 
for  himself  great  reputation,  not  only  in  this  country  but  in 
Europe;  a  man  who  in  later  years  became  a  prominent  figure 


264  Twelve  Americans. 

among  the  most  distinguished  citizens  of  the  Republic.  In 
short,  the  manor-house  which  was  the  home  of  the  Van 
Hooks  is  now  owned  and  occupied  by  Frederick  Douglass. 

Sitting  upon  the  broad  piazza  of  this  his  dwelling-place — the 
house  won  by  his  own  toil — in  the  shade  of  overhanging  mag- 
nolia-trees, in  full  view  of  Fort  Stanton,  one  of  the  most  formi- 
dable works  erected  for  the  protection  of  the  capital — in  sight 
also  of  Arlington  Heights,  the  Soldiers'  Home,  the  legislative 
halls  of  the  nation,  and  the  famous  Long  Bridge,  which  leads  to 
Virginian  soil — the  ex-slave,  surrounded  by  books,  papers,  and 
magazines,  with  well-executed  pictures  and  busts  of  Sumner, 
Phillips,  Garrison,  Lincoln,  and  the  rest  near  at  hand,  spends 
the  time  which  he  can  spare  from  his  official  duties.  In  this 
house,  so  surrounded,  he  told  me  the  story  of  his  life — a 
story  full  of  strange  incidents,  exciting  adventures,  deep  sor- 
row, many  tribulations,  and  ultimately  great  triumphs. 

Frederick  Douglass  was  born  upon  the  Eastern  Shore  of  Mary- 
land, in  a  half-famine-stricken  district  known  as  Tuckahoe — a 
district  which  in  the  olden  time  was  noted  throughout  the  State 
for  the  sterility  of  its  soil,  the  wretchedness  of  its  negro  inhab- 
itants, and  the  profligacy,  slovenliness,  and  dissipation  of  the 
white  men  who,  by  some  inscrutable  dispensation  of  Provi- 
dence, were  for  a  time  permitted  to  tyrannize  over  them  as 
their  owners  and  masters.  The  exact  date  of  his  birth  Freder- 
ick Douglass  does  not  know.  As  to  who  his  father  was  he  has 
never  been  fully  informed.  Upon  this  subject  he  can  only 
say,  with  touching  pathos,  "  Genealogical  trees  did  not  flourish 
among  slaves.  A  person  of  some  consequence  among  freemen 
sometimes  designated  '  father '  was  literally  abolished  in  slave 
law  and  slave  practice.  It  was  only  occasionally  that  an  ex- 
ception was  found  to  this  system.  As  to  the  time  of  my 
birth  I  am  equally  indistinct.  Indeed,  I  seldom  knew  a  slave 
who  could  tell  how  old  he  was,  for  slave  mothers  knew  nothing 
of  the  months  of  the  year  or  the  days  of  the  month.     There 


Through  Slavery  to  Fame.  265 

was  no  family  record  among  them.  They  measured  the  ages 
of  their  children  by  spring-time,  harvest-time,  winter-time,  and 
planting-time,  and  naturally,  little  by  little,  even  these  designa- 
tions became  obliterated.  From  certain  events  which  subse- 
quently occurred,  however,  I  am  led  to  believe  that  I  was  born 
about  the  year  1817." 

One  of  the  earliest  recollections  of  the  child  who  came  into 
the  world  thus  unheralded,  unrecorded,  unprotected  by  the  ties 
of  family,  was  his  separation  from  the  old  grandmother  who 
had  been  permitted  by  his  master  and  owner  to  so  nourish  him 
in  his  infancy  that  he  might  become  the  more  valuable  as  a 
chattel.  Tnckahoe  was  situated  some  miles  from  the  so-called 
"  home  plantation."  One  day,  when  he  was  about  seven  years 
old,  the  boy  Frederick,  by  one  device  or  another,  was  induced 
to  leave  the  old  log-cabin  which  to  him  was  home  and  go  to 
the  slave  settlement,  where  his  troubles  were  to  commence. 
Arriving  at  the  mansion  of  the  "  old  master,"  whom  even  at 
that  early  age  he  had  learned  to  dread  as  a  mysterious  and 
ill-favored  personage,  his  grandmother  (weeping  bitterly  all  the 
time)  pointed  out  to  him  a  number  of  children  somewhat  older 
than  himself,  and  assured  him  that  they  were  his  brothers  and 
sisters.  This  was  indeed  the  case — that  is  to  say,  the  same 
mother  had  borne  them.  Heaven  alone  knew  who  was  their 
father.  Brothers  and  sisters  though  they  were,  however,  their 
presence  stirred  no  pulse  of  affection  in  the  slave-boy's  heart. 
He  knew  no  friend  in  the  world — no  relative  save  the  kind  old 
woman  who  had  cared  for  his  infancy,  and,  Avith  an  instinctive 
dread  of  what  was  to  come,  he  clung  to  her  skirts  with  the 
grip  of  despair.  It  was  only  by  dint  of  much  coaxing  that  he 
could  be  induced  to  mingle  with  the  children.  Still,  he  took 
no  part  in  their  play,  but  for  several  moments  stood  thought- 
fully watching  them.  Then  suddenly  one  of  the  girls,  running 
up  to  him,  with  a  half  mocking  laugh,  sent  misery  to  his  heart 
by  crying, 

12 


266  Twelve  Americans. 

"Fed —  Fed!  oh,  Fed!  granma,  she  done  gone  —  granma 
done  gone  lef  you  1" 

It  was  but  too  true :  the  protector  whom  he  had  learned  to 
love,  her  own  heart  breaking  at  the  sacrifice,  impelled  to  go  as 
she  did  by  a  knowledge  of  the  cruel  consequences  which  must 
follow  disobedience,  had  abandoned  the  child  to  the  keeping 
of  those  who  assumed  to  own  it  body  and  soul.  The  boy  lived 
to  see  her  fidelity  to  her  master  rewarded  by  treatment  such  as 
no  humane  man  would  think  good  enough  for  a  beast  of  the 
field.  When  she  was  too  old  to  work  or  sell  she  was  turned 
out  like  a  friendless  dog  to  die  on  the  roadside. 

It  has  generally  been  supposed  that,  even  during  the  worst  days 
of  slavery,  Maryland,  bordering  as  it  did  upon  the  free  North, 
was  exempt  from  much  of  the  cruelty  practised  upon  the  negroes 
in  the  far-distant  cotton  and  sugar  States.  Upon  many  of  the 
Maryland  plantations,  particularly  upon  those  lying  near  the 
great  thoroughfares  of  travel,  this  might  have  been  the  case. 
It  was  not  true  of  the  estate  to  which  Frederick  Douglass  be- 
longed. That  "home  plantation"  on  the  Eastern  Shore,  situ- 
ated near  no  large  town,  settlement,  or  village,  with  no  court  of 
justice  or  school-house  in  the  neighborhood,  without  any  shadow 
of  law  save  the  will  of  the  slaveholder  and  of  his  overseers,  was 
as  completely  a  domain  to  itself  as  it  would  have  been  were 
it  separated,  isolated  by  wide  seas,  from  all  the  rest  of  the 
world.  There  was  no  public  opinion  to  protect  the  slaves  from 
the  cruelty  of  their  taskmasters;  there  was  no  State  nor  na- 
tional statute  to  restrain  those  taskmasters.  The  overseer  in 
one  person  constituted  judge  and  jury,  and  in  only  too  many 
cases  the  executioner  also.  It  was  upon  this  plantation,  so 
governed,  he  being  one  among  a  thousand  or  more  other 
"chattels,"  that  Douglass  passed  the  early  days  of  his  youth. 

When  his  grandmother  was  compelled  to  desert  him  as  de- 
scribed he,  with  a  company  of  other  slave-children,  was  placed 
under  the  care  of  a  sort  of  universal  relative,  known  as  "  ole 


Through  Slavery  to  Fame.  267 

Aunt  Kate."  *  It  was  the  duty  of  this  woman — "  a  black  vira- 
go," Mr.  Douglass  has  since  called  her — to  deal  out  to  the  chil- 
dren under  her  care  the  corn-meal  and  scraps  of  bacon  which, 
with  oysters,  constituted  their  only  food.  For  some  unac- 
countable reason  she  took  a  violent  dislike  to  the  child  Fred, 
and  he  relates  that  because  of  her  hostility  to  him  he  was 
frequently  upon  the  verge  of  starvation. 

Regarding  this  stage  of  his  life  he  has  since  written  :  "  Want 
of  food  was  my  chief  trouble  the  first  summer  at  my  '  old  mas- 
ter's.' Oysters  and  clams  would  do  very  well,  with  an  occa- 
sional supply  of  bread,  but  in  the  absence  of  bread  they  soon 
failed.  I  speak  but  the  simple  truth  when  I  say  that  I  have 
often  been  so  pinched  with  hunger  that  I  have  fought  with 
the  dog,  old  '  Mep,'  for  the  smallest  crumbs  that  fell  from  the 
kitchen  table,  and  have  been  glad  when  I  won  a  single  crumb 
in  the  combat.  Many  times  have  I  watched  the  waiting-girl 
when  she  went  to  shake  the  table-cloth,  to  get  the  crumbs  and 
small  bones  flung  out  for  the  cats.  The  water  in  which  meat 
had  been  boiled  was  as  eagerly  sought  for  by  me.  It  was  a 
great  thing  to  get  the  privilege  of  dipping  a  piece  of  bread  in 
such  Avater,  and  the  skin  taken  from  rusty  bacon  was  a  positive 
luxury." 

It  will  be  remembered  that  one  of  the  boasts  of  those  who 
owned  slaves  in  the  olden  time  was,  that  their  "chattels"  were 
better  cared  for,  more  comfortably  housed  and  abundantly  fed, 
than  were  the  peasantry  of  any  country  in  the  Old  World. 
The  experience  of  Mr.  Douglass  during  his  bondage  does  not 
bear  out  this  statement.     He  is  very  distinct  in  his  recollection 


*  It  was  a  matter  of  etiquette  among  slaves  to  call  their  elders  and 
those  of  their  own  color  who  were  in  authority  "uncles"  and  ."aunts." 
Thus,  on  the  plantation  to  which  Mr.  Douglass  belonged  the  cook  was  uni- 
versally known  as  "Aunt  Jane,"  the  blacksmith  as  "Uncle  Tony,"  the 
shoemaker  as  "  Uncle  Ben,"  and  the  cartwright  as  "  old  Uncle  Abel " — 
"  old  Uncle  "  being  regarded  as  a  title  of  particular  honor. 


268  Twelve  Americans. 

of  that  time,  and  with  much  minuteness  relates  that  the  men 
and  women  who  were  slaves  on  the  estate  of  his  master  re- 
ceived as  their  monthly  allowance  of  food  eight  pounds  of 
pickled  pork,  or  its  equivalent  in  fish.  The  meat  was  often 
tainted  and  the  fish  of  the  very  poorest  quality.  With  the 
pork  or  fish  the  slave  received  one  bushel  of  Indian  meal, 
which  was  unbolted,  and  of  which  fully  fifteen  per  cent,  was 
hardly  fit  to  feed  pigs.  This,  in  addition  to  one  pound  of  salt, 
was  the  entire  monthly  allowance  of  a  full-grown  man  or  wom- 
an, who  was  required  to  work  constantly  in  the  open  air  from 
early  morning  until  night,  every  day  in  the  week  except  Sunday. 

The  raiment  provided  for  the  slaves  was  quite  as  inadequate 
as  was  their  food.  The  yearly  allowance  of  clothes  for  grown 
slaves  comprised  two  shirts  of  "tow  linen,"  such  material  as 
that  from  which  the  coarsest  crash  towels  are  made ;  one  pair 
of  trousers  of  the  same  material  for  summer,  and  a  pair  of 
trousers  and  a  woollen  jacket,  sewed  together  in  the  coarsest 
fashion,  for  winter;  one  pair  of  yarn  stockings,  and  one  pair 
of  shoes  of  the  very  worst  make. 

Children  who  were  not  old  enough  to  work,  and  who,  in 
consequence,  were  of  no  profit  to  their  masters,  were  entirely 
disregarded.  In  most  instances  neither  clothes  nor  food  were 
given  to  them.  Mr.  Douglass  remembers  that  numbers  of 
children,  from  five  to  ten  years  of  age,  upon  the  plantation  of 
his  master,  were  constantly  seen  as  destitute  of  covering  as  are 
the  blacks  in  the  wilds  of  Africa,  the  girls  being  no  better  pro- 
vided for  than  were  the  boys.  The  shelter  given  to  the  slaves 
was  not  nearly  so  good  as  ordinary  farmers  would  supply  to 
their  dogs  or  pigs.  Even  the  common  laws  of  decency  were 
outraged  in  the  most  flagrant  fashion.  Old  men  and  young- 
men,  girls  and  women,  married  and  single,  children  and  grand- 
mothers, slept  together  on  the  common  floor,  scantily  covered 
by  filthy  blankets,  and  huddled  in  each  others'  arms  for  better 
protection  against  the  cold. 


Through  Slavery  to  Fame.  269 

Nor  was  the  other  treatment  which  the  slaves  received  from 
those  who  had  authority  over  them  calculated  to  compensate 
for  the  lack  of  physical  comforts.  Whippings  of  the  most 
cruel  description  were  of  frequent  occurrence.  Indeed,  one  of 
Mr.  Douglass's  earliest  recollections  is  that  of  the  horrible  flog- 
ging of  an  unfortunate  quadroon  girl,  who,  loving  a  man  of  her 
own  color,  refused  to  submit  to  the  embraces  of  her  master. 

In  after-years  Mr.  Douglass  thus  vividly  described  the  scene  : 

"  It  was  early  in  the  morning,  when  all  besides  was  still,  and  before  any 
of  the  household  had  left  their  beds.  I  was  awakened  by  the  shrieks  and 
piteous  cries  of  poor  Esther.  My  sleeping-place  was  on  the  floor  of  a 
little,  rough  closet  which  opened  into  the  kitchen,  and  through  the  cracks 
of  its  unplaned  boards  I  could  distinctly  see  and  hear  what  was  going  on 
without  being  seen  by  '  old  master.'  Esther's  wrists  were  firmly  tied,  and 
the  twisted  rope  was  fastened  to  a  strong  staple  in  a  heavy  wooden  joist 
above,  near  the  fireplace.  Here  she  stood,  possessed  to  a  remarkable  de- 
gree of  that  curse  to  the  slave-girl — personal  beauty ;  her  only  crime,  that 
she  loved  a  man  of  her  own  color,  that  she  would  not  submit  herself  to 
the  white  master  who  may  have  been  her  father.  Her  arms  were  tightly 
drawn  over  her  breast,  her  back  and  shoulders  were  bare  to  the  waist. 
Behind  her  stood  'old  master,'  with  cowskin  in  hand,  preparing  for  his 
barbarous  work  with  all  manner  of  harsh,  coarse,  and  tantalizing  epithets. 
The  screams  of  his  victim  were  most  piercing.  He  was  cruelly  deliberate, 
and  protracted  the  torture  as  one  who  was  delighted  with  the  scene. 
Again  and  again  he  drew  the  hateful  whip  through  his  hand,  adjusting 
it  with  a  view  of  dealing  the  most  pain-giving  blow.  Poor  Esther  had 
never  yet  been  severely  whipped,  and  her  shoulders  were  plump  and  ten- 
der. Each  blow,  vigorously  laid  on,  brought  screams  as  well  as  blood ; 
but  her  piercing  cries  seemed  only  to  increase  his  fury.  His  answers  to 
them  were  too  coarse  and  blasphemous  to  be  written.  The  whole  scene, 
with  all  its  attendants,  was  revolting  and  shocking  to  the  last  degree ; 
and  when  the  motives  of  the  brutal  castigation  are  considered,  language 
has  no  power  to  convey  a  just  sense  of  its  awful  criminality.  After  lay- 
ing on  some  thirty  or  forty  stripes,  'old  master'  untied  his  suffering  vic- 
tim and  let  her  get  down.  She  could  scarcely  stand  when  untied.  This 
scene  was  often  repeated  in  the  case  of  poor  Esther,  and  her  life  as  I 
knew  it  was  one  of  wretchedness." 

Another  instance  of  this  terrible  time  in  his  life  Mr.  Doug- 
lass recalls  with  great  vividness.  Upon  the  estate  of  his  mas- 
ter was  a  woman  known  as  Nellie — surnames,  as  it  is  perhaps 


270  Twelve  Americans. 

needless  to  state,  were  not  fashionable  among  slaves.  This 
woman  "was  accused  by  one  of  the  overseers  of  having  been 
"impudent"  to  him,  an  offence  on  the  part  of  a  slave  regarded 
as  one  of  the  most  unpardonable.  To  punish  it  the  overseer 
threatened  to  flog  the  woman,  and  grasped  her  arm  for  that 
purpose.  His  efforts  to  drag  her  to  a  tree  and  tie  her  to  it 
were  stoutly  resisted.  With  loud  screams  she  declared  that  she 
would  not  be  beaten,  and,  with  the  fury  almost  of  a  maniac, 
tried  to  release  herself.  Three  of  her  children,  ranging  in  age 
from  seven  to  ten  years,  gallantly  came  to  her  assistance.  One 
of  the  boys  left  the  imprint  of  his  little  teeth  in  the  overseer's 
leg.  The  woman  herself  scarred  his  face  with  her  toil-hard- 
ened finger-nails.  But  she  fought  in  vain.  The  rope  was  at 
last  about  her  arms,  she  was  tied  to  the  tree,  and,  with  the 
strength  of  a  giant,  while  the  agonizing  cries  of  herself  and 
her  children  resounded  all  about,  the  cowardly  overseer  tore 
her  flesh  with  the  cruel  rawhide,  desisting  not  until  the  poor 
wretch  was  almost  dead  from  fright  and  loss  of  blood.  Ter- 
ribly as  the  woman  had  been  beaten,  however,  there  was  no 
evidence  that  her  defiant  spirit  had  been  broken.  She  was 
silenced,  but  not  subdued. 

In  connection  with  this  latter  statement  it  is  of  interest  to 
note  that  one  of  the  faults  which  slave-holders  frequently 
found  with  one  or  another  of  their  "chattels"  was,  that  he  or 
she  was  "  a  silent  nigger."  By  every  means  possible  the  bond- 
men were  induced  to  make  a  noise.  "Bear  a  hand  there!" 
and  "  Come,  now,  make  a  noise — make  a  noise !"  was  the  con- 
stant cry  of  the  taskmasters.  The  sullen  silence  of  despair 
was  always  dreaded  by  well-trained  overseers,  and  a  slave  who 
could  sing  and  keep  cheerful  his  companions  in  the  field  was 
highly  prized.  To  this  fact,  among  others,  many  persons 
familiar  with  the  inner  workings  of  the  institution  of  slavery 
attribute  the  marked  inclination  which  the  bondmen  displayed 
to  be  continually,  while  working,  engaged  in  chorus  or  song. 


Through  Slavery  to  Fame.  271 

It  is  noticeable  that  while  in  the  hearing  of  white  men  the 
slaves  were  usually  shrewd  enough  to  sing  some  verse  compli- 
mentary to  their  masters,  as,  for  instance  : 

"I'm  a-goin'  away  to  de  great  house  farm; 
0  yea  !  0  yea  !  0  yea  ! 
My  ol'  master  is  a  good  ol'  master; 
0  yea  !  0  yea !  0  yea  !" 

When  they  were  alone,  however,  their  songs  were  far  from 
being  either  glad  or  complimentary.  Then  it  was  that  they 
sang  such  significant  choruses  as  the  following: 

"  We  raise  de  wheat, 
Dey  gib  us  de  corn ; 
We  bake  de  bread, 

Dey  gib  us  de  cruss ; 
We  sif  de  meal, 

Dey  gib  us  de  huss ; 
We  peel  de  meat, 

Dey  gib  us  de  skin  ; 
And  dat's  de  way 
Dey  takes  us  in. 
We  skim  de  pot, 
Dey  gib  us  de  liquor, 
And  say  dat's  good  enough  fo'  a  nigger. 
Walk  over !  walk  over ! 
Tom  butter  an'  de  fat. 
Hi,  ol'  nigger,  you  can't  get  over  dat. 
Walk  over." 

Still  more  significant  were  such  choruses  as — 

"  Oh,  Canaan,  sweet  Canaan  ! 
I  am  bound  for  the  land  of  Canaan." 

"  I  thought  I  heard  them  say 
There  were  lions  in  the  way  ; 
I  don't  expect  to  stay 

Much  longer  here." 
****** 

"  Run  to  Jesus — shun  the  danger — 
I  don't  expect  to  stay 
Much  longer  here — 
No  longer." 


272  Twelve  Americans. 

Regarding  this  subject  Mr.  Douglass  in  later  years  said  : 

"  I  did  not,  when  a  slave,  understand  the  deep  meanings  of  those  rude 
and  apparently  incoherent  songs.  I  was  myself  within  the  circle,  so  that 
I  neither  saw  nor  heard  as  those  without  might  see  and  hear.  They  told 
a  tale  which  was  then  altogether  beyond  my  feeble  comprehension ;  they 
were  tones,  loud  and  deep,  breathing  the  prayer  and  complaint  of  souls 
boiling  over  with  the  bitterest  anguish.  Every  tone  was  a  testimony 
against  slavery  and  a  prayer  to  God  for  deliverance  from  chains.  The 
hearing  of  those  wild  notes  always  depressed  my  spirits  and  filled  my 
heart  with  ineffable  sadness.  The  mere  recurrence,  even  now,  afflicts 
my  spirit,  and  while  I  am  writing  these  lines  my  tears  are  falling.  To 
those  songs  I  trace  my  first  glimmering  conceptions  of  the  dehumanizing 
character  of  slavery.  I  can  never  get  rid  of  that  conception.  Those 
songs  still  follow  me,  to  deepen  my  hatred  of  slavery  and  quicken  my 
sympathies  for  my  brethren  in  bonds.  If  any  one  wishes  to  be  impressed 
with  a  sense  of  the  soul-killing  power  of  slavery,  let  him  go  to  Colonel 
Lloyd*s  plantation,  and,  on  allowance-day,  place  himself  in  the  deep  pine 
woods,  and  there  let  him,  in  silence,  thoroughly  analyze  the  sounds  that 
shall  pass  through  the  chambers  of  his  soul ;  and  if  he  is  not  thus  im- 
pressed, it  will  only  be  because  '  there  is  no  flesh  in  his  obdurate  heart.' " 

The  reader  of  these  lines — written  by  a  man  who  had  him- 
self tasted  of  the  bitterness  of  slave-life — may  well  believe  that 
the  songs  of  the  bondmen  were  not  precisely  the  outpourings 
of  joy  and  happiness  which,  even  to  this  day,  many  an  old 
slave-dealer  would  have  the  public  believe  them  to  have  been. 

But  the  despairing  cries  of  women  and  men  who  were  be- 
ing brutally  beaten,  and  the  plaintive  songs  of  those  who  were 
forced  to  appear  merry  even  though  they  were  sad,  were  not 
the  only  terrible  sounds  which  in  those  days  sainted  the  ears 
of  young  Douglass.  It  was  also  his  fate  to  hear  the  last  death- 
cry  of  a  man  of  his  own  color,  shot  down  in  cold  blood  by  one 
of  his  master's  overseers.  The  incidents  of  the  tragedy  well 
illustrate  the  habits  of  the  time. 

Upon  "the  old  plantation"  of  Douglass's  master  was  a 
voung  black  man  known  as  Bill  Denvy.  He  was  a  powerful 
young  fellow  and  a  hard  worker,  but  withal  a  man  of  a  quick 
temper  and  fiery  spirit. 

In  some  way  he  offended  his   overseer,  who  attempted  to 


Through  Slavery  to  Fame.  273 

whip  him.  Three  or  four  cuts  from  the  rawhide  sank  deep 
into  the  slave's  flesh,  and  then,  with  the  strength  of  madness, 
he  broke  from  his  keeper,  dashed  into  an  adjacent  creek,  and 
there,  standing  up  to  his  neck  in  the  water,  defied  the  overseer, 
and  refused  to  come  upon  the  shore. 

"  Come  out  of  there,  Bill  Denvy,  or  I'll  shoot  you !"  cried 
the  infuriated  overseer. 

"  I's  not  coming  out  to  be  whipped,"  resolutely  responded 
the  slave. 

"  Come  out,  or  I  swear  I'll  shoot  you !" 

"  I  won't,"  was  the  response. 

"  I'll  give  you  three  calls ;  if  you  don't  come  on  the  last 
you  are  a  dead  man  !     Will  you  come  out  ?" 

"  No  ;  I  won't  be  whipped." 

"Will  you  come  out?" 

"  No ;  I  won't  be  whipped." 

"Will  you  come  out?  for  the  third  time,"  cried  the  over- 
seer, and  for  the  third  time  the  black  man  replied, 

"  No ;  I  won't  be  whipped." 

They  were  the  last  words  he  spoke  on  earth.  Deliberately 
the  overseer  raised  his  gun  —  took  deadly  aim  ;  there  was  a 
flash  and  a  report,  and  black  Bill  Denvy,  who  had  dared  to 
defy  the  authority  of  his  master,  was  sent  to  a  better  world  ! 

Was  this  crime  punished?  some  innocent  reader  unac- 
quainted with  the  slave  system  may  ask.  No,  it  was  not. 
The  occurrence  created  some  little  commotion  in  the  neigh- 
borhood; but,  it  being  everywhere  agreed  that  defiant  slaves 
must  be  got  rid  of  in  some  way,  Colonel  Lloyd,  the  owner  of 
the  plantation,  and  the  only  man  who  could  bring  the  culprit 
to  justice,  dismissed  him  with  a  reprimand,  which  was  doubt- 
less called  forth  more  from  anger  at  the  loss  of  a  valuable 
piece  of  property  than  horror  at  the  commission  of  a  terrible 
crime. 

Though  witnessing  many  acts  of  cruelty  and  crime  almost 
12* 


274  Twelve  Americans. 

as  cold-blooded  as  that  related,  young  Douglass  during  his  ear- 
ly boyhood  could  not  complain  of  any  personal  cruelty  prac- 
tised upon  himself.  His  main  trouble  was  from  hunger  and 
cold,  and,  as  he  himself  tells,  he  suffered  even  less  from  hun- 
ger than  from  the  elements.  In  strong  and  epigrammatic 
language  he  says  upon  this  subject :  "  In  hottest  summer  and 
coldest  winter  I  was  kept  almost  in  a  state  of  nudity  —  no 
shoes,  no  stockings,  no  jacket,  no  trousers,  nothing  hut  coarse 
sackcloth  or  '  tow  linen,'  made  into  a  sort  of  shirt  reaching 
down  to  my  knees.  This  I  wore  night  and  day,  changing  it 
only  once  a  week.  In  the  winter-time  I  could,  during  the  day, 
protect  myself  by  keeping  on  the  sunny  side  of  the  house,  and 
in  bad  weather  in  the  corner  of  the  kitchen  chimney.  The 
great  difficulty  was  to  keep  warm  during  the  night.  I  had  no 
bed.  The  pigs  in  the  pen  had  leaves,  the  horses  in  the  stable 
had  straw,  but  the  children  had  no  beds ;  they  lodged  any- 
where. I  generally  slept  in  a  little  closet,  without  even  a 
blanket  to  cover  me.  In  very  cold  weather  I  sometimes  got 
down  the  bag  in  which  corn-meal  was  usually  carried  to  the 
mill  and  crawled  into  that,  sleeping  there  with  my  head  in  and 
my  feet  out.  I  was  partly  protected,  though  not  comfortable. 
My  feet  were  at  times  so  cracked  with  the  frost  that  a  good- 
sized  knife-blade  might  be  laid  in  the  gashes." 

II. 

LEARNING   UNDER  DIFFICULTY. 

Housed,  fed,  and  clothed  as  described,  surrounded  by  such 
terrible  scenes  as  those  related,  the  boy  passed  what  he  now 
believes  to  have  been  about  three  years,  and  then,  when,  ac- 
cording to  his  best  recollection,  he  was  ten  years  old,  a  happy 
change  occurred  in  his  situation.  By  order  of  his  master 
he  was  sent  to  Baltimore  to  live  with  a  relative  of  his  own- 
er's family.      His  new  master,  and  particularly  his  mistress, 


Through  Slavery  to  Fame.  275 

proved  at  first  to  be  very  kind  and  warm -hearted  people. 
They  owned  no  slaves  of  their  own,  and  had  not  been  under 
the  degrading  influences  which  belong  to  such  proprietorship. 
The  lady  of  the  house  was  a  religious  woman  in  more  senses 
than  that  of  church-going,  and  under  her  care  the  boy  of  quick 
intelligence  and  really  remarkable  natural  ability  rapidly  gained 
much  useful  information,  and  quickly  developed  many  qualities 
which,  under  other  circumstances,  would  doubtless  have  lain 
dormant.  It  was  in  this  new  home  that  Frederick  Douglass 
learned  to  read,  so  laying  the  foundation  for  that  better  edu- 
cation which  in  the  years  afterward  made  him  a  marked  man, 
not  on!)'  among  his  own  people,  but  among  all  the  people  of 
this  country. 

He  first  acquired  a  desire  to  learn  to  read  by  hearing  his 
mistress  reading  the  Bible.  One  day,  knowing  nothing  of  the 
fact  that  he  was  making  what  was  then  regarded  in  the  slave 
States  as  an  unlawful  request,  he  went  to  the  lady  and  said  to 
her  frankly, 

"  Please,  missy,  will  you  teach  me  to  read  ?" 

To  which  simple  and  pathetic  appeal  the  kind  woman  at 
once  gave  an  affirmative  response.  By  her  aid  and  by  dili- 
gent study  he  soon  made  himself  master  of  the  alphabet,  and 
shortly  was  able  to  spell  words  of  three  or  four  letters.  The 
lady  of  the  house  was  so  proud  of  her  pupil  that  one  evening- 
she  informed  her  husband  of  the  lessons  she  was  giving  him, 
and  exultingly  exclaimed, 

"  He  is  getting  on  so  rapidly  that  I  soon  expect  to  have  him 
reading  the  Bible !" 

"  What !"  cried  her  husband,  almost  in  consternation,  "  vou 
are  teaching  that  nigger  to  read?" 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  amazed  at  his  tone,  "  as  I  tell  you,  and  he 
is  getting  along  nicely." 

"He  must  get  along  no  farther,"  was  the  peremptory  re- 
sponse of  the  master  of  the  house;  and  then  he  continued  by 


276  Twelve  Americans. 

explaining  to  his  wife  that  it  was  not  only  unsafe  and  impoli- 
tic to  teach  slaves  to  read,  but  that  it  was  actually  unlawful  to 
do  so.  In  conclusion  he  said — and  his  words  sank  deep  into 
the  heart  of  the  little  black  boy  who  heard  them — "  If  you 
give  a  nigger  an  inch  he  will  take  an  ell.  Learning  would 
spoil  the  best  one  of  them.  If  you  were  to  teach  that  boy 
how  to  read  the  Bible  there  would  be  no  keeping  him ;  such 
knowledge  could  only  do  him  harm — at  any  rate,  could  only 
make  him  discontented  and  unhappy.  Besides,  if  you  teach 
him  to  read  he  would  soon  after  want  to  write ;  and  when  he 
had  acquired  that  accomplishment  the  next  thing  he  would  do 
would  be  to  run  away." 

Obedient  to  the  wish  of  her  husband,  "Fred's"  mistress, 
after  this  lecture,  not  only  refused  to  assist  him  in  learning 
to  read,  but  threw  every  obstacle  in  the  way  of  his  acquiring 
such  knowledge  unaided.  But  all  her  efforts  were  without 
avail.  The  boy  had  learned  the  alphabet;  he  had  received  the 
inch,  and  soon  demonstrated  that  he  intended  to  take  the  ell. 
He  was  determined  at  all  hazards  to  learn  to  read.  By  some 
means  he  secured  a  Webster's  "  Spelling-book,"  and,  with  this 
constantly  by  him,  whenever  he  was  sent  into  the  street  upon 
an  errand,  by  the  help  of  a  number  of  white  boys  with  whom 
he  had  struck  up  an  acquaintance,  he  continued  his  spelling- 
lessons.     So,  little  by  little,  he  learned  to  read. 

Having  gained  this  knowledge,  his  next  desire  was  to  learn 
to  write.  He  did  so  by  a  most  ingenious  process.  Near  his 
master's  house  there  was  a  ship-yard,  to  which  he  was  allowed 
to  go  during  his  hours  of  leisure.  Here  he  observed  that  the 
carpenters,  after  cutting  and  getting  a  plank  or  piece  of  timber 
ready  for  use,  wrote  on  it  the  first  letters  of  the  name  of  those 
parts  of  the  ship  for  which  it  was  destined  ;  for  instance,  when  a 
plank  was  ready  for  the  starboard  bow  it  was  marked  "  S.  B.," 
and  so  on  for  the  different  parts  of  the  vessel.  The  boy 
quickly  saw  for  what  purpose  these  letters  were  intended,  and 


Through  Slavery  to  Fame.  277 

learned  to  make  them.  Then  he  concluded  that  if  he  could 
make  the  four  or  five  letters  which  he  had  seen  employed  by 
the  carpenters  he  could  make  all  those  in  the  alphabet.  Again 
he  had  recourse  to  his  playmates  for  assistance ;  and  with 
fences,  pavements,  and  chips  for  his  copy-books,  and  chalk 
for  his  pen  and  ink,  he  learned  the  rudiments  of  writing. 
Subsequently  he  adopted  numerous  expedients  for  improving 
his  hand.  Among  others  he  copied  all  the  italics  in  his  Web- 
ster's "  Spelling-book  ;"  and,  finding  a  stray  copy-book  belong- 
ing to  the  son  of  his  mistress,  he  retraced  the  letters  written 
by  the  white  boy,  and  then,  in  the  spaces  between  the  lines,  im- 
proved upon  them.     So  he  became  an  accomplished  penman. 

Learning  rapidly,  picking  up  all  sorts  of  odd  information, 
and  reading  every  stray  scrap  of  printed  paper  which  came  into 
his  possession,  "  Fred."  Douglass — with  the  exception  of  one 
short  intermission,  when  he  was  sent  to  the  Eastern  Shore  to 
be  "  valued  "  with  the  horses,  cows,  pigs,  and  other  chattels — 
remained  in  Baltimore  until  his  sixteenth  year.  Then,  sud- 
denly, because  of  the  death  of  his  owner,  he  was  sent  to  St. 
Michael's,  a  small  village  on  the  Eastern  Shore,  Maryland. 
His  new  master — a  relative  of  his  former  owner,  into  whose 
possession  he  came  by  inheritance — professed  to  be  an  exceed- 
ingly pious  man ;  was,  indeed,  continually  prating  of  religion, 
and  eno'ao-ed  in  what  he  delio-hted  to  call  "  brino-ino-  souls  to 

3      3  O  3         3 

Jesus."  Despite  his  profession  of  religion,  however,  and  desire 
to  save  souls,  he  was,  as  Mr.  Douglass  remembers  him,  one  of 
the  meanest,  crudest,  and  most  pusillanimous  of  men.  For  in- 
stance, shortly  after  the  boy  arrived  at  St.  Michael's  he  form- 
ed the  acquaintance  of  a  young  white  man,  named  Wilson, 
who  was  indeed  a  Christian  in  the  very  best  sense  of  the 
term.  This  young  man  asked  the  slave-boy  if  he  would  assist 
him  in  establishing  a  Sabbath-school  at  the  house  of  a  free 
negro  who  lived  in  the  neighborhood.  The  idea  was  at  once 
eagerly  seized  upon  by  Douglass ;  and,  relying  upon  the  well- 


278  Twelve  Americans. 

known  and  widely  proclaimed  religions  convictions  of  his 
master  for  protection,  he  at  once  consented  to  the  plan  pro- 
posed by  Wilson.  Together  they  soon  mustered  up  a  few 
spelling-books  and  a  number  of  Testaments  and  hymn-books, 
and  with  these  and  some  twenty  colored  scholars  commenced 
their  school.  The  first  Sabbath  spent  in  teaching  these  chil- 
dren was  a  delightful  one  to  the  slave-boy.  He  felt  for  the 
first  time  in  his  life  that  he  had  a  mission  in  the  world.  He 
saw  that  he  could  be  useful  to  his  fellow-beings,  and  he  was 
more  happy  than  he  could  express.  But  his  happiness  was 
not  to  continue. 

During  the  week  which  followed  the  first  meeting  of  the 
school  it  became  noised  all  over  the  neighborhood  that  "Wilson 
and  the  young  negro,  Douglass,  were  teaching  slave  children 
how  to  read!  At  this  outrage  upon  the  slave -owners  the 
wildest  indignation  was  expressed ;  and,  as  the  event  proved, 
even  the  pious  master  of  Douglass  was  loud  in  his  declarations 
against  what  was  regarded  as  "  a  violation  of  sacred  rights." 
But  no  word  of  this  indignation  reached  the  young  teachers, 
and  on  the  second  Sabbath  their  little  school  came  together  as 
before.  Hardly  had  it  assembled,  however — hardly  had  Doug- 
lass and  his  companions  commenced  teaching  their  little  pupils 
the  story  of  the  sufferings  of  the  Son  of  God,  when  a  mob, 
headed  by  Douglass's  master  and  two  other  deacons  of  the 
church,  rushed  in,  armed  with  sticks  and  other  missiles,  and 
drove  both  teachers  and  pupils  out  into  the  road.  So  the 
colored  Sabbath-school  was  broken  up,  and  more  than  ever 
young  Douglass  was  made  to  feel  the  bitterness  of  the  life  of 
a  slave. 

From  this  time  on  the  discontent  with  his  lot  which  he  had 
previously  experienced  continued  to  increase  rapidly.  He  be- 
came morose,  silent,  and  sullen,  and,  as  his  master  declared,  re- 
bellious and  unmanageable.  There  may  have  been  some  cause 
for  these  complaints  against  him.     At  all  events,  his  master 


Through  Slavery  to  Fame.  279 

determined  that  lie  would  bear  with  him  no  longer,  and  an- 
nounced that  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  send  him  out  to  be 
"  broken." 

III. 

"BREAKING-IN  A  NIGGER." 

Not  far  from  the  town  of  St.  Michael's  there  lived  a  man 
named  Covey,  a  poor  man,  who  rented  his  land,  and  who  en- 
joyed the  distinction  of  being  a  "  first-class  breaker-in  of  young 
negroes" — that  is  to  say,  he  was  known  to  be  a  cruel  task- 
master, exacting  to  a  degree,  a  giant  in  strength,  and  with  great 
tenacity  of  purpose.  Possessing  these  qualities,  he  had  early 
developed  an  aptitude  for  bringing  unruly  young  black  men  to 
their  senses,  very  much  as  some  men  develop  a  talent  for  break- 
ing-in  ungovernable  horses.  Indeed,  there  is  a  very  shrewd 
suspicion  that  the  methods  employed  by  Mr.  Covey  to  bring 
black  boys  to  submission  were  not  unlike  those  employed  by 
horse-breakers.  So  noted  was  he  in  the  direction  indicated, 
that  numerous  slave-holders  believed  it  to  be  a  positive  advan- 
tage to  give  into  his  hands  the  government  of  their  slaves  for 
a  year  or  two,  that  they  might,  under  his  fostering  care,  be 
trained  up  in  the  way  they  should  go.  They  were  also  sure  of 
having  their  spiritual  welfare  looked  after,  for  Mr.  Covey,  like 
many  of  his  class,  was  a  strict  member  of  the  church.  It  was 
to  this  man  that  high-spirited  young  Frederick  Douglass,  on 
the  morning  of  the  first  day  of  January,  1834,  was  conveyed 
to  be  "  broken-in." 

In  later  years,  speaking  of  that  epoch  in  his  history,  Mr. 
Douglass,  with  marked  pathos,  said : 

"  There  was  neither  joy  in  my  heart  nor  elasticity  in  my  step  as  I  start- 
ed in  search  of  the  tyrant's  home.  Starvation  made  me  glad  to  leave  my 
old  master's,  and  the  cruel  lash  made  me  dread  to  go  to  Covey's.  Escape 
was  impossible.  So,  heavy  and  sad,  I  paced  the  seven  miles  which  sepa- 
rated Covey's  house  from  St.  Michael's — thinking  much  by  the  solitary 
way.     Like  a  fish  in  a  net,  allowed  to  play  for  a  time,  I  was  now  drawn 


280  Twelve  Americans. 

rapidly  to  the  shore,  secured  at  all  points.  I  thought, '  I  am  but  the  sport 
of  a  power  which  makes  no  account  of  my  welfare  or  my  happiness.  By 
a  law  which  I  can  clearly  comprehend,  but  cannot  evade  or  resist,  I  am 
ruthlessly  snatched  from  the  heart  of  a  fond  grandmother  and  hurled 
away  to  the  home  of  a  mysterious  "  old  master."  Again,  I  am  removed 
from  there  to  a  master  in  Baltimore ;  thence  am  I  snatched  away  to  the 
Eastern  Shore,  to  be  valued  with  the  beasts  of  the  field,  and  with  them  di- 
vided and  set  apart  for  a  possessor ;  then  I  am  sent  back  to  Baltimore ; 
and  by  the  time  I  have  formed  new  attachments  and  begun  to  hope  that 
no  more  troubled  change  shall  touch  me,  I  am  again  broken  up  and  sent 
to  St.  Michael's ;  and  now,  from  the  latter  place,  I  am  footing  my  way  to 
the  home  of  a  new  master,  where  I  am  given  to  understand  that,  like  a 
wild  young  working  animal,  I  am  to  be  broken  to  the  yoke  of  a  bitter  and 
life-long  bondage.' " 

The  young  man's  anticipations  of  the  lot  which  was  before 
Lira  were  but  too  well-grounded.  He  had  not  been  in  the 
charge  of  Covey  three  days  before,  for  some  trumped-up  offence 
— no  actual  reason  was  assigned — he  was  brutally  beaten.  Un- 
der the  heavy  blows  of  the  negro-breaker  blood  flowed  from 
his  back,  and  the  wales  left  upon  his  shoulders  were  as  large  as 
a  man's  finger.  The  sores  remaining  from  this  flogging  were 
continually  kept  open  by  the  rough  and  coarse  cloth  which  he 
was  obliged  to  wear,  and  for  weeks  afterward  the  young  man 
lived  on,  suffering  the  keenest  agony.  During  the  year  which 
he  remained  with  Covey  he  was  continually  obliged  to  submit 
to  the  same  cruel  treatment.  As  he  himself  says,  aching  pains 
and  a  sore  back  were  his  constant  companions.  But,  frequent- 
ly as  the  lash  was  used  upon  him,  it  was  not  Mr.  Covey's  only 
means  of  breaking  his  spirit.  Hard  and  long-continued  labor 
was  also  brought  into  play.  The  boy  was  worked  steadily  up 
to  the  very  last  point  of  his  endurance.  From  the  moment 
that  day  broke  until  black  darkness  had  set  in  he  was  kept 
hard  at  work  ploughing  in  the  fields  or  hauling  wood  from  the 
forest.  At  certain  seasons  of  the  year  the  slaves  were  kept  in 
the  fields  sometimes  as  late  as  eleven  and  twelve  o'clock  at 
night,  and  all  the  time  they  were  urged  to  extra  exertion  by 
the  smarting  lash  of  a  rawhide  whip. 


Through  Slavery  to  Fame.  281 

Regarding  his  experience  with  the  brute  who  at  this  time 
had  control  of  him,  Mr.  Douglass  in  after  years  wrote  as  fol- 
lows: 

"  If  at  any  one  time  of  my  life  more  than  another  I  was  made  to  drink 
the  bitterest  dregs  of  slavery,  that  time  was  during  the  first  six  months  of 
my  stay  with  Mr.  Cove}'.  We  were  worked  in  all  weathers.  It  was  never 
too  hot  or  too  cold ;  it  could  never  rain,  blow,  snow,  or  hail  too  hard  for 
us  to  work  in  the  field.  Work,  work,  work  was  scarcely  more  the  order 
of  the  day  than  of  the  night.  The  longest  days  were  too  short  for  him. 
I  was  somewhat  unmanageable  when  I  first  went  there,  but  a  few  months 
of  this  discipline  tamed  me.  Mr.  Covey  succeeded  in  breaking  me.  I 
was  broken  in  body,  soul,  and  spirit.  My  natural  elasticity  was  crushed ; 
my  intellect  languished ;  the  disposition  to  read  departed ;  the  cheerful 
spark  that  lingered  about  my  eye  died ;  the  dark  night  of  slavery  closed 
in  upon  me,  and  behold,  a  man  transformed  into  a  brute ! 

"  Sunday  was  my  only  leisure  time.  I  spent  this  in  a  sort  of  beast-like 
stupor,  between  sleep  and  wake,  under  some  large  tree.  At  times  I  would 
rise  up,  a  flash  of  energetic  freedom  would  dart  through  my  soul,  accom- 
panied with  a  faint  beam  of  hope  that  flickered  for  a  moment  and  then 
vanished.  I  sank  down  again,  mourning  over  my  wretched  condition.  I 
was  sometimes  prompted  to  take  my  life  and  that  of  Covey,  but  was  pre- 
vented by  a  combination  of  hope  and  fear.  My  sufferings  on  this  planta- 
tion seem  now  like  a  dream  rather  than  a  stern  reality. 

"  Our  house  stood  within  a  few  rods  of  the  Chesapeake  Bay,  whose 
broad  bosom  was  ever  white  with  sails  from  every  quarter  of  the  habitable 
globe.  Those  beautiful  vessels,  robed  in  purest  white-,  so  delightful  to  the 
eye  of  free  men,  were  to  me  so  many  shrouded  ghosts,  to  terrify  and  tor- 
ment me  with  thoughts  of  my  wretched  condition.  I  have  often,  in  the 
deep  stillness  of  a  summer  Sabbath,  stood  all  alone  upon  the  banks  of  that 
noble  bay,  and  traced  with  saddened  heart  and  tearful  eye  the  countless 
number  of  sails  moving  off  to  the  mighty  ocean.  The  sight  of  these  al- 
ways affected  me  powerfully.  My  thoughts  would  compel  utterance ;  and 
there,  with  no  audience  but  the  Almighty,  I  would  pour  out  my  soul's  com- 
plaint in  my  rude  way,  with  an  apostrophe  to  the  moving  multitude  of 
ships.     My  thought  was  : 

"  'You  are  loosed  from  your  moorings  and  free ;  I  am  fast  in  my  chains, 
and  am  a  slave.  You  move  merrily  before  the  gentle  gale,  and  I  sadly 
before  the  bloody  whip.  You  are  freedom's  swift-winged  angels  that  fly 
around  the  world ;  I  am  confined  in  bands  of  iron.  Oh,  that  I  were  free  ! 
Oh,  that  I  were  oil  one  of  your  gallant  decks  and  under  your  protecting 
wing !  Alas  !  between  me  and  you  the  turbid  waters  roll.  Go  on,  go  on. 
Oh,  that  1  could  also  go  !  Could  I  but  swim  !  If  I  could  fly  !  Oh,  why 
was  I  born  a  man  of  whom  to  make  a  brute  ?     The  glad  ship  is  gone ;  she 


282  Twelve  Americans. 

bides  in  the  dim  distance.  I  am  left  in  the  hottest  hell  of  unending  sla- 
very !  0  God,  save  me !  God  deliver  me !  Let  me  be  free !  Is  there 
any  God  ?  Why  am  I  a  slave  ?  I  will  run  away.  I  will  not  stand  it. 
Get  caught  or  get  clear,  I'll  try  it.  I  have  only  one  life  to  lose.  I  had 
as  well  be  killed  running  as  die  standing.  Only  think  of  it — one  hundred 
miles  straight  North  and  I  am  free !  Try  it  ?  Yes  !  God  helping  me,  I 
will.  It  cannot  be  that  I  shall  live  and  die  a  slave.  1  will  take  to  the 
water.  This  very  bay  shall  bear  me  into  freedom.  The  steamboats  steer 
in  a  north-east  course  from  North  Point.  I  will  do  the  same,  and  when  I 
get  to  the  head  of  the  bay  I  will  turn  my  canoe  adrift  and  walk  straight 
through  Delaware  into  Pennsylvania.  When  I  get  there  I  shall  not  be  re- 
quired to  have  a  pass;  I  will  travel  without  being  disturbed.  Let  but  the 
first  opportunity  offer,  and,  come  what  will,  I  am  off.  Meanwhile,  I  will 
try  to  bear  up  under  the  yoke.  I  am  not  the  only  slave  in  the  world. 
Why  should  I  fret  ?  I  can  bear  as  much  as  any  of  them.  Besides,  I  am 
but  a  boy,  and  all  boys  are  bound  to  some  one.  It  may  be  that  my  misery 
in  slavery  wrill  only  increase  my  happiness  when  I  get  free.  There  is  a 
better  day  coming.' " 

Hopeful  as  were  these  conclusions  which  the  boy  drew  from 
his  dark  surroundings,  they  were  not  sufficient  to  sustain  him 
in  the  greater  trials  which  Covey  afterward  put  upon  him. 
Patience  at  last  ceased  to  be  a  virtue  even  in  a  slave,  and  the 
boy,  goaded  almost  to  madness,  and  caring  nothing  for  the  re- 
sults, escaped  from  "  the  breaking-in  farm "  and  returned  to 
brave  the  anger  of  his  owner.  This  he  found  even  greater 
than  he  had  expected,  and  before  many  days  had  elapsed  he 
was  once  more  placed  in  the  possession  of  his  cruel  taskmas- 
ter. But  he  came  back  to  Covey's  with  a  new  spirit.  He 
made  up  his  mind  that,  come  what  might,  he  would  be  flogged 
no  more.  Like  that  other  slave  who  is  told  of  in  the  history 
of  the  time,  he  was  determined  that  those  who  had  power  over 
him  might  kill  him,  but  that  they  should  not  beat  him.  Covey 
was  equally  determined,  as  the  result  proved,  that  he  should 
be  flogged  within  an  inch  of  his  life,  and  upon  the  very  first 
opportunity  he  undertook  to  perform  that  task.  Hardly  had 
he  laid  hands  upon  Douglass,  however,  when  the  powerful 
young  slave  turned  upon  him,  seized  him  suddenly  by  the 
throat  and  hurled  him  to  the  ground.     There  he  held  him,  his 


Through  Slavery  to  Fame.  283 

nails  buried  deep  in  the  white  craven's  flesh,  and  the  red  blood 
of  his  vanquished  tormentor  flowing  freely. 

"You  mean  to  resist  me,  you  scoundrel?"  asked  the  negro- 
breaker. 

"  Yes,"  was  the  calm  reply  of  the  slave. 

A  desperate  fight  ensued.  Covey  cried  lustily  for  help,  but 
could  secure  none,  and  at  last  gave  up  the  unequal  contest;  and 
during  the  remainder  of  the  time  that  Douglass  was  on  his 
farm,  dreading  a  repetition  of  the  scene,  and  doubtless  believ- 
ing that  his  reputation  as  "a  nigger-breaker"  would  suffer  if 
the  result  of  his  struggle  with  the  powerful  young  slave  should 
become  generally  known,  he  treated  him  with  marked  consid- 
eration. 

The  result  of  this  first  fight  and  victory  over  a  white  man 
was  to  fix  in  the  heart  of  the  slave  a  still  firmer  determination 
to  be  a  free  man.  Indeed,  it  was  only  a  few  months  afterward 
that  he  made  an  attempt  to  escape.  It  was  not  successful, 
however,  and,  as  the  incidents  connected  with  it  are  neither 
interesting  nor  important,  no  extended  narrative  is  called 
for.  It  is  only  necessary  to  say  that  young  Douglass  lived 
through  all  the  hardships  which  he  was  obliged  to  endure  at 
the  "  nigger-breaker's." 

Subsequently,  after  his  unsuccessful  attempt  to  escape,  ho 
was  again  sent  to  Baltimore,  to  be  the  servant  of  his  owner's 
brother.  Here  his  condition  was  very  much  improved,  and  he 
was  enabled  to  continue  in  secret  the  studies  in  which  he  had 
formerly  engaged.  After  a  time  he  was  apprenticed  to  a  ship 
carpenter,  and  when  he  had  learned  the  trade  was  permitted  to 
hire  himself  out,  the  only  restraint  upon  him  being  that  he  was 
obliged  to  give  to  his  master  the  greater  part  of  the  money 
which  he  earned.  Still,  he  was  comparatively  comfortable  at 
this  time  of  his  life,  and  were  it  not  for  many  petty  indignities 
which  were  continually  being  put  upon  him  he  might  have  be- 
come in  a  measure  contented.     But  these  indignities,  and  the 


284  Tivelve  Americans. 

thought  that  he  was  a  slave,  to  be  sold,  bartered,  traded  off, 
and  maltreated  at  the  pleasure  of  people  whom  he  began  to 
know  were  not  intellectually  his  equals,  continually  troubled 
him,  and  he  at  last  determined  that,  come  what  might,  he  would 
gain  his  freedom — gain  it  even  though  he  should  do  so  at  the 
risk  of  his  life.  This  resolution  he  lost  no  time  in  putting 
into  execution.    And  he  succeeded. 

IV. 

THE  ESCAPE   FROM  SLAVERY. 

As  to  the  manner  of  his  escape  Frederick  Douglass  for  long 
years  maintained  the  utmost  silence.  This  he  did  because, 
as  he  himself  said  at  the  time :  "  The  practice  of  publishing 
every  new  invention  by  which  a  slave  is  known  to  have  es- 
caped from  slavery  has  neither  wisdom  nor  necessity  to  sustain 
it.  Had  not  Henry  Box  Brown  and  his  friends  attracted 
slave-holding  attention  to  the  manner  of  his  escape  we  might 
have  had  a  thousand  Box  Browns  per  annum.  The  singularly 
original  plan  adopted  by  William  and  Ellen  Crafts  perished 
with  its  first  using,  because  every  slave-holder  in  the  land  was 
apprised  of  it.  The  salt-water  slave  who  hung  in  the  guards 
of  the  steamer,  being  washed  three  days  and  three  nights,  like 
another  Jonah,  by  the  waves  of  the  sea,  by  the  publicity  given 
to  the  circumstances,  set  a  spy  on  the  guards  of  every  steamer 
departing  from  Southern  ports."  Considerations  such  as  these 
no  longer  existing,  Mr.  Douglass  has  now  no  objection  to  the 
publication  of  the  story  of  his  escape. 

Making  up  his  mind  that,  come  what  might,  he  would  be 
free  from  a  condition  of  bondage,  the  young  man,  after  three 
months  of  hard  work,  pinching  himself  at  every  turn,  managed 
to  scrape  together  seventeen  dollars.  He  knew  that  it  was  im- 
possible for  him  to  obtain  so-called  "free  papers,"  which  would 
permit  him  to  leave  Baltimore  without  question,  but  he  did  sue- 


Through  Slavery  to  Fame.  285 

ceed,  after  some  effort,  in  securing"  what  in  those  days  was  called 
a  "  sailor's  protection."  This  was  a  certificate  of  citizenship, 
duly  signed  and  sealed  by  the  authorities,  which  was  given  to 
all  colored  seamen  leaving  Baltimore  and  other  Southern  ports, 
as  a  guarantee  against  molestation  because  of  their  race.  An 
old  friend  of  Douglass,  a  free  man,  who  had  ceased  going  to 
sea,  and  who  had  in  his  possession  one  of  these  certificates,  gave 
it  to  him.  It  is  true  that  the  description  of  the  man  contained 
in  it  was  very  far  from  fitting  Douglass ;  still,  after  attiring 
himself  in  a  full  suit  of  sailor's  clothes,  and  knowing  that,  no 
matter  bow  closely  he  might  be  questioned,  he  could,  because 
of  his  familiarity  with  ships  and  ship-yards,  sustain  the  dis- 
guise, he  went  to  the  railway  depot,  and  just  as  the  train  was 
departing  for  New  York  jumped  upon  it  and  went  into  the 
"  colored  car."  At  this  time  one  of  the  rallying  cries  of  the 
dominant  party  was  "  Free  Trade  and  Sailors'  Rights ;"  and  as 
the  train  was  obliged  to  pass  entirely  through  Baltimore,  thus 
giving  ample  time  for  the  examination  of  colored  passengers, 
none  of  the  officers  at  the  depot  attempted  to  prevent  Doug- 
lass, apparently  fresh  from  the  sea,  from  taking  passage  in  the 
car.  Having  succeeded  to  this  extent,  he  still  knew  that  his 
chief  ordeal  was  yet  before  him.  At  the  time  in  question  rail- 
way companies  were  not  only  held  responsible  for  the  safe  de- 
livery of  goods  and  passengers,  but  also,  to  a  certain  extent, 
for  the  value  of  slave  property  which  might  escape,  over  their 
roads.  Having  this  responsibility,  the  conductors  and  other 
servants  of  the  railroads  were  given  authority  to  arrest  and  de- 
tain those  whom  they  had  good  reason  to  believe  were  slaves 
attempting  to  escape. 

When  the  conductor  of  the  train  upon  which  Douglass  had 
taken  passage  approached  him  he  was  for  a  moment  much 
alarmed,  but  it  was  only  for  a  moment;  then,  summoning  all 
his  courage,  he  put  the  boldest  front  upon  the  matter.  After 
minutely  questioning  all  the  other  colored  people  in  the  car, 


286  Twelve  Americans. 

the  conductor  came  to  what  seemed  to  him  to  be  a  young 
sailor  and  said, 

"  Well,  Jack,  of  course  you've  got  your  papers  ?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Douglass,  boldly,  and  apparently  without  the 
slightest  anxiety.  "I  guess  I've  got  papers  here  that  will  carry 
me  anywhere ;"  saying  which  he  drew  out  his  "  sailor's  protec- 
tion," and  handed  it  to  his  questioner. 

The  conductor  glanced  at  it  rapidly,  saw  that  the  broad 
eagle  of  the  Government  was  at  its  top,  and  that  it  was  duly 
signed  and  sealed,  and,  fully  satisfied  that  Douglass  had  every 
right  to  travel  where  he  would,  passed  into  the  next  car. 

Until  the  train  reached  Havre  de  Grace  the  fugitive  encoun- 
tered no  farther  detention.  At  that  place,  however,  his  train 
and  tbat  which  was  South  bound  met  each  other  on  opposite 
tracks,  and,  as  chance  would  have  it,  the  window  of  the  seat  in 
which  he  sat  came  directly  opposite  that  at  which  was  seat- 
ed a  Captain  M'Gowan,  who  knew  him  well !  Fortunately,  the 
trains  separated  without  Douglass  being  recognized  by  this  man, 
who  would  certainly  have  secured  his  return  to  his  master. 

On  the  boat  from  Wilmington  to  Philadelphia  the  young 
man  was  again  greatly  alarmed.  He  was  there  met  by  a  negro 
who  had  known  him  in  slavery,  and  who,  with  very  little  of 
that  caution  for  which  his  race  is  proverbial,  said  quickly,  aud 
quite  aloud, 

"  I  suppose  you  are  not  going  back  this  way  very  soon?" 

He  was  going  on  to  make  some  farther  remarks  in  the  same 
direction,  when  Douglass,  by  a  look  and  a  word  or  two  spo- 
ken tinder  his  breath,  effectually  silenced  him. 

Having  passed  through  these  dangers,  the  runaway  arrived 
safely  at  Philadelphia,  and  had  no  trouble  in  making  his  way 
to  New  York.  How  rejoiced  he  was  to  be  within  the  limits  of 
that  free  State  may  be  inferred  from  the  fact  that  at  the  time 
in  question  recaptured  runaway  slaves  were  almost  invariably 
whipped  within  au  inch  of  their  lives,  and  then  sold  to  planters 


Through  Slavery  to  Fame.  287 

in  the  Gulf  States — literally  to  be  ground  up  into  sugar  and 
rice,  for  it  was  then  universally  believed  by  land-owners  in  the 
far  South  that  the  most  profitable  way  to  work  a  plantation 
was  to  use  up  a  full-grown  "nigger"  in  seven  years,  and  com- 
mence anew  with  a  fresh  crop.  That  is  to  say,  it  was  the  cus- 
tom to  work  a  negro  night  and  day  for  as  long  a  time  as  he 
would  hold  out — the  longest  period  for  which  it  was  possible 
for  human  nature  to  endure  such  treatment  was  usually  seven 
years — when  the  unhappy  man  died  miserably,  and  his  place 
was  taken  by  another  unfortunate. 

For  a  time  after  his  arrival  in  New  York,  Douglass  had  good 
reason  to  fear  that  he  might  at  any  moment  be  taken  to  make 
up  one  of  this  "fresh  crop."  Having  this  prospect  continual- 
ly before  him,  he  knew  that  he  could  not  live  contentedly  in 
New  York,  and  he  concluded  to  try  and  make  a  home  in  New 
England.  With  this  intention,  after  being  united  to  the  wom- 
an of  his  choice,  he  went  to  New  Bedford.  There  he  assumed 
the  name  which  he  has  since  so  greatly  honored,  and  tried 
hard  to  get  work  at  his  trade.  By  a  few  good  people  who  be- 
longed to  the  growing  Abolition  Party  he.  was  very  kindly 
treated  and  much  encouraged.  But  by  the  working-classes 
about  the  ship-yards  he  was  made  to  feel  plainly  that  he  was 
an  unwelcome  intruder.  In  one  yard  he  was  refused  work  on 
the  ground  that  the  white  calkers  would  strike  if  he  was  em- 
ployed;  in  another  he  was  told  that  "no  niggers"  were  want- 
ed. All  this  in  "  free  New  England !"  Still  he  struggled  on 
against  injury  and  insult,  the  knowledge  that  he  was  at  least  a 
free  man  supporting  him  through  many  trials.  This  sort  of 
life  he  continued  for  some  years,  and  little  by  little  his  condi- 
tion improved.  His  marked  intellectual  ability,  and  his  power 
as  a  public  speaker  and  writer  on  topics  connected  with  slavery, 
brought  him  into  communication  with  Garrison  and  many  of 
the  other  advanced  advocates  of  the  Emancipation  movement, 
and  they  were  all  glad  to  recognize  in  him  a  man  worthy  of 


288  Twelve  Americans. 

esteem  and  admiration.  For  a  time  he  was  employed  as  an 
agent  of  the  Massachusetts  Antislavery  Society,  delivered  lect- 
ures in  different  parts  of  the  country,  and  made  many  friends. 
Still,  his  every-day  life  continued  to  be  most  disagreeable;  and 
at  last,  having  saved  a  little  money,  and  having  renewed  reasons 
to  fear  that  he  might  be  recaptured  and  sold  as  a  slave  into  the 
far  South,  he  made  up  his  mind  to  go  to  England. 

Of  his  experiences  in  that  country  Mr.  Douglass  still  cher- 
ishes the  liveliest  recollections.  How  he  was  treated  there,  and 
what  his  impressions  and  feelings  were,  is  well  told  in  the  fol- 
lowing communication,  which  he  wrote  to  his  friend  William 
Lloyd  Garrison  on  New-year's-day,  1846: 

"  My  dear  Friend  Garrison, — Up  to  tins  time  I  have  given  no  direct 
expression  of  the  views,  feelings,  and  opinions  which  I  have  formed  re- 
specting the  character  and  condition  of  the  people  of  this  land.  I  have 
refrained  thus  purposely.  I  wish  to  speak  advised!)',  and  in  order  to  do 
this  I  have  waited  till,  I  trust,  experience  has  brought  my  opinions  to  an 
intelligent  maturity.  I  have  been  thus  careful,  not  because  I  think  what  I 
say  will  have  much  effect  in  shaping  the  opinions  of  the  world,  but  be- 
cause whatever  of  influence  I  may  possess,  whether  little  or  much,  I  wish 
it  to  go  in  the  right  direction  and  according  to  truth.  I  hardly  need  say 
that  in  speaking  of  Ireland  I  shall  be  influenced  by  no  prejudices  in  favor 
of  America.  I  think  my  circumstances  all  forbid  that.  I  have  no  end  to 
serve,  no  creed  to  uphold,  no  Government  to  defend;  and  as  to  nation,  I 
belong  to  none.  I  have  no  protection  at  home  or  resting-place  abroad. 
The  land  of  my  birth  welcomes  me  to  her  shores  only  as  a  slave,  and 
spurns  with  contempt  the  idea  of  treating  me  differently ;  so  that  I  am  an 
outcast  from  the  society  of  my  childhood,  and  an  outlaw  in  the  land  of 
my  birth.  '  I  am  a  stranger  with  thee,  and  a  sojourner,  as  all  my  fathers 
were.'  That  men  should  be  patriotic  is  to  me  perfectly  natural,  and,  as  a 
philosophical  fact,  I  am  able  to  give  it  an  intellectual  recognition.  But  no 
farther  can  I  go.  If  ever  I  had  any  patriotism  or  any  capacity  for  the 
feeling,  it  was  whipped  out  of  me  long  since  by  the  lash  of  the  American 
soul-drivers. 

"In  thinking  of  America, I  sometimes  find  myself  admiring  her  bright 
blue  sky,  her  grand  old  woods,  her  fertile  fields,  her  beautiful  rivers,  her 
mighty  lakes,  and  star -crowned  mountains.  But  my  rapture  is  soon 
checked,  my  joy  is  soon  turned  to  mourning.  When  I  remember  that  all 
is  cursed  with  the  infernal  spirit  of  slave  -  holding,  robbery,  and  wrong ; 
when  I  remember  that  with  the  waters  of  her  noblest  rivers  the  tears  of 


Through  Slavery  to  Fame.  289 

my  brethren  are  borne  to  the  ocean,  disregarded  and  forgotten,  and  that 
her  most  lovely  fields  drink  daily  of  the  warm  blood  of  my  outraged  sis- 
ters, I  am  filled  with  unutterable  loathing,  and  led  to  reproach  myself  that 
anything  could  fall  from  my  lips  in  praise  of  such  a  land.  America  will 
not  allow  her  children  to  love  her.  She  seems  bent  on  compelling  those 
who  would  be  her  warmest  friends  to  be  her  worst  enemies.  May  God 
give  her  repentance  before  it  is  too  late  !  is  the  ardent  prayer  of  my  heart. 
I  will  continue  to  pray,  labor,  and  wait,  believing  that  she  cannot  always 
be  insensible  to  the  dictates  of  justice  or  deaf  to  the  voice  of  humanity. 

"My  opportunities  for  learning  the  character  and  condition  of  the  peo- 
ple of  this  land  have  been  very  great.  I  have  travelled  almost  from  the 
Hill  of  Howth  to  the  Giant's  Causeway,  and  from  the  Giant's  Causeway  to 
Cape  Clear.  During  these  travels  I  have  met  with  much  in  the  character 
and  condition  of  the  people  to  approve,  and  much  to  condemn  ;  much  that 
has  thrilled  me  with  pleasure,  and  very  much  that  has  filled  me  with  pain. 
I  will  not  in  this  letter  attempt  to  give  any  description  of  those  scenes 
which  have  given  me  pain.  This  I  will  do  hereafter.  I  have  written 
enough,  and  more  than  your  subscribers  will  be  disposed  to  read  at  one 
time,  of  the  bright  side  of  the  picture.  I  can  truly  say  I  have  spent  some 
of  the  happiest  moments  of  my  life  since  landing  in  this  country.  I  seem 
to  have  undergone  a  transformation.  I  live  a  new  life.  The  warm  and 
generous  co-operation  extended  to  me  by  the  friends  of  my  despised  race ; 
the  prompt  and  liberal  manner  with  which  the  Press  has  rendered  me  its 
aid ;  the  glorious  enthusiasm  with  which  thousands  have  flocked  to  hear 
the  cruel  wrongs  of  my  down-trodden  and  long-enslaved  fellow-country- 
men portrayed ;  the  deep  sympathy  for  the  slave  and  the  strong  abhor- 
rence of  the  slave-holder  everywhere  evinced ;  the  cordiality  with  which 
members  and  ministers  of  various  religious  bodies  and  of  various  shades 
of  religious  opinion  have  embraced  me  and  lent  me  their  aid ;  the  kind 
hospitality  constantly  proffered  to  me  by  persons  of  the  highest  rank  in 
society ;  the  spirit  of  freedom  that  seems  to  animate  all  with  whom  I 
come  in  contact ;  and  the  entire  absence  of  everything  that  looked  like  prej- 
udice against  me  on  account  of  the  color  of  my  skin — contrasted  so  strongly 
with  my  long  and  bitter  experience  in  the  United  States,  that  I  look  with 
wonder  and  amazement  on  the  transition.  In  the  Southern  part  of  the 
United  States  I  was  a  slave,  thought  of  and  spoken  of  as  property ;  in  the 
language  of  the  law, '  held,  taken,  reputed,  and  adjudged  to  be  a  chattel  in 
the  hands  of  my  owners  and  possessors,  and  their  executors,  administra- 
tors, and  assigns,  to  all  intents,  constructions,  and  purposes  whatsoever.' 
In  the  Northern  States  a  fugitive  slave,  liable  to  be  hunted  at  any  mo- 
ment like  a  felon,  and  to  be  hurled  into  the  terrible  jaws  of  slavery; 
doomed  by  an  inveterate  prejudice  against  color  to  insult  and  outrage  on 
every  hand ;  denied  the  privileges  and  courtesies  common  to  others  in  the 
use  of  the  most  humble  means  of  conveyance ;  shut  out  from  the  cabins 
on  steamboats ;   refused  admission   to   respectable   hotels ;    caricatured, 

13 


290  Twelve  Americans. 

scorned,  scoffed,  mocked,  and  maltreated  with  impunity  by  any  one,  no 
matter  how  black  his  heart,  so  he  has  a  white  skin.  But  now  behold  the 
change  !  Eleven  days  and  a  half  gone,  and  I  have  crossed  three  thousand 
miles  of  the  perilous  deep.  Instead  of  a  democratic  Government,  I  am 
under  a  monarchical  Government.  Instead  of  the  bright  blue  sky  of 
America,  I  am  covered  with  the  soft,  gray  fog  of  the  Emerald  Isle.  I 
breathe,  and  lo !  the  chattel  becomes  a  man.  I  gaze  around  in  vain  for 
one  who  will  question  my  equal  humanity,  claim  me  as  his  slave,  or  offer 
me  an  insult.  I  employ  a  cab  ;  I  am  seated  beside  white  people ;  I  reach 
the  hotel,  I  enter  the  same  door,  I  am  shown  into  the  same  parlor,  I  dine 
at  the  same  table,  and  no  one  is  offended.  No  delicate  nose  grows  de- 
formed in  my  presence.  I  find  no  difficulty  here  in  obtaining  admission 
into  any  place  of  worship,  instruction,  or  amusement  on  equal  terms  with 
people  as  white  as  any  I  ever  saw  in  the  United  States.  I  meet  nothing 
to  remind  me  of  my  complexion.  I  find  myself  regarded  and  treated  at 
every  turn  with  the  kindness  and  deference  paid  to  white  people.  When 
I  go  to  church  I  am  met  by  no  upturned  nose  and  scornful  lip  to  tell  me, 
'  We  doti't  allow  niggers  in  hereP 

"I  remember,  about  two  years  ago,  there  was  in  Boston, near  the  south- 
west corner  of  Boston  Common,  a  menagerie.  I  had  long  desired  to  see 
such  a  collection  as  I  understood  was  being  visited  there.  Never  having 
had  an  opportunity  while  a  slave,  I  resolved  to  seize  this,  my  first  since 
my  escape.  I  went,  and  as  I  approached  the  entrance  to  gain  admission 
I  was  met  and  told  by  the  door-keeper,  in  a  harsh  and  contemptuous  tone, 
'We  elonH  alloiv  niggers  in  hereP  I  also  remember  attending  a  revival 
meeting  in  the  Rev.  Henry  Jackson's  meeting-house,  at  New  Bedford,  and, 
going  up  the  broad  aisle  to  find  a  seat,  I  was  met  by  a  good  deacon,  who 
told  me,  in  a  pious  tone, '  We  donH  allow  niggers  in  hereP  Soon  after  my 
arrival  in  New  Bedford  from  the  South  I  had  a  strong  desire  to  attend 
the  Lyceum,  but  was  told, '  They  don't  cdloiv  niggers  in  hereP  While  pass- 
ing from  New  York  to  Boston  on  the  steamer  Massachusetts,  on  the  night 
of  the  9th  of  December,  1843,  when  chilled  almost  through  with  the  cold, 
I  went  into  the  cabin  to  get  a  little  warm.  I  was  soon  touched  upon  the 
shoulder  and  told,  iWe  elonH  allow  niggers  in  liereP  On  arriving  in  Boston 
from  an  antislavery  tour,  hungry  and  tired,  I  went  into  an  eating-house 
near  my  friend  Mr.  Campbell's  to  get  some  refreshments.  I  was  met  by 
a  lad  in  a  white  apron,  who  said, '  We  dorCt  allow  nigyers  in  hereP  A  week 
or  two  before  leaving  the  United  States  I  had  a  meeting  appointed  at 
Weymouth,  the  home  of  that  glorious  band  of  true  Abolitionists,  the  Wes- 
ton family  and  others.  On  attempting  to  take  a  seat  in  the  omnibus  to 
that  place  I  was  told  by  the  driver — and  I  never  shall  forget  his  fiendish 
hate — ^  I  don't  allow  niggers  in  here  P 

"  Thank  Heaven  for  the  respite  I  now  enjoy !  I  had  been  in  Dublin  but 
a  few  days  when  a  gentleman  of  great  respectability  kindly  offered  to  con- 
duct me  through  all  the  public  buildings  of  that  beautiful  city ;  and  a  little 


Through  Slavery  to  Fame.  291 

afterward  I  found  myself  dining  with  the  Lord  Mayor  of  Dublin.  What 
a  pity  there  was  not  some  American  democratic  Christian  at  the  door  of 
his  splendid  mansion  to  bark  out  at  my  approach,  'They  don't  allow  niggers 
in  here  P  The  truth  is,  the  people  here  know  nothing  of  the  republican 
negro-hate  prevalent  in  our  glorious  land.  They  measure  and  esteem  men 
according  to  their  moral  and  intellectual  worth,  and  not  according  to  the 
color  of  their  skin.  Whatever  may  be  said  of  the  aristocracies  here,  there 
is  none  based  on  the  color  of  a  man's  skin.  This  species  of  aristocracy 
belongs  pre-eminently  to  the '  land  of  the  free  and  the  home  of  the  brave.' 
I  have  never  found  it  abroad  in  any  but  Americans.  It  sticks  to  them 
wherever  they  go.  They  find  it  almost  as  hard  to  get  rid  of  as  to  get  rid 
of  their  skins. 

"The  second  day  after  my  arrival  at  Liverpool,  in  company  with  my 
friend  Buffum  and  several  other  friends,  I  went  to  Eaton  Hall,  the  resi- 
dence of  the  Marquis  of  Westminster,  one  of  the  most  splendid  buildings 
in  England.  On  approaching  the  door  I  found  several  of  our  American 
passengers  who  came  out  with  us  in  the  Cambria  waiting  for  admission, 
as  but  one  party  was  allowed  in  the  house  at  a  time.  We  all  had  to  wait 
till  the  company  within  came  out,  and  of  all  of  the  faces  expressive  of 
chagrin  those  of  the  Americans  were  pre-eminent.  They  looked  as  sour  as 
vinegar  and  as  bitter  as  gall  when  they  found  I  was  to  be  admitted  on  equal 
terms  with  themselves.  When  the  door  was  opened  I  walked  in  on  an 
equal  footing  with  my  white  fellow-citizens,  and,  from  all  I  could  see,  I 
had  as  much  attention  paid  me  by  the  servants  that  showed  us  through 
the  house  as  any  with  a  paler  skin.  As  I  walked  through  the  building  the 
statuary  did  not  fall  down,  the  pictures  did  not  leap  from  their  places,  the 
doors  did  not  refuse  to  open,  and  the  servants  did  not  say, '  JJre  don't  allow 
niggers  in  here  /' 

"  A  happy  new  year  to  you  and  all  the  friends  of  freedom !" 

The  wish  contained  in  the  closing  words  of  this  letter,  so  far 
as  Douglass  was  concerned,  was  to  be  abundantly  fulfilled ;  for 
it  was  in  this  same  year  of  1846  that  a  number  of  those  who 
were  interested  in  him,  at  the  instance  of  Mrs.  Henry  Richards, 
of  Baltimore,  one  of  his  best  friends,  subscribed  sufficient  mon- 
ey to  purchase  his  freedom.  The  result  of  their  labors  was  the 
execution  of  the  following  paper  by  his  master : 

"  To  all  whom  it  may  concern : 

"  Be  it  known  that  I,  Hugh  Auld,  of  the  City  of  Baltimore,  in  Baltimore 
County,  in  the  State  of  Maryland,  for  divers  good  causes,  have  released 
from  slavery,  liberated,  manumitted,  and  set  free,  and  by  these  presents 


292  Twelve  Americans. 

do  hereby  release  from  slavery,  liberate,  manumit,  and  set  free  my  negro 
man  named  Frederick  Bailey,  otherwise  called  Douglass,  being  of  the  age 
of  twenty-eight  years  or  thereabout,  and  able  to  work  and  gain  a  sufficient 
livelihood  and  maintenance  and  home.  The  said  negro  man  named  Fred- 
erick Bailey,  otherwise  called  Frederick  Douglass,  I  do  declare  to  be  hence- 
forth free,  manumitted,  and  discharged  from  all  servitude  to  me,  my  Ex- 
ecutors and  Administrators,  forever. 

"  In  witness  whereof  I,  the  said  Hugh  Auld,  have  hereunto  set  my  hand 
and  seal  the  fifth  day  of  December,  in  the  year  one  thousand  eight  hun- 
dred and  forty-six.  Hugh  Auld. 

"Signed  and  delivered  in  the  presence  of  -j  j^^g.  T*  Wright." 

With  this  paper  in  his  possession,  Mr.  Douglass  was,  of 
course,  free  from  all  fear  of  being  again  placed  in  a  condition 
of  slavery ;  and,  with  that  dread  prospect  removed,  he  returned 
to  America,  and  entered  actively  upon  the  work  of  a  public 
lecturer  and  a  writer  for  the  antislavery  papers,  which  were 
then  beginning  to  increase  in  numbers  and  strength. 

V. 

DOUGLASS  AXD   JOHX   BROWX. 

The  exact  connection  which  Frederick  Douglass  had  with 
the  scheme  of  John  Brown  has  long  been  a  matter  of  some 
mystery.  There  is  now  no  reason  why  a  plain  statement  of 
that  connection  should  not  be  made.  Douglass  knew  Brown 
exceedingly  well,  and  thoroughly  sympathized  with  his  origi- 
nal scheme,  which  was  simply  to  run  off  slaves,  and  to  make 
slave  property  insecure  by  such  means,  but  had  in  it  no  sug- 
gestion of  insurrection.  When  he  found,  however,  that  the 
original  plan  was  to  be  abandoned,  and  that  Brown  had  de- 
termined to  capture  Harper's  Ferry,  he  visited  him  at  Cham- 
bersburg,  Pennsylvania,  two  weeks  before  the  outbreak,  and 
by  every  means  in  his  power  tried  to  dissuade  him  from  his 
mad  undertaking. 

The   last   interview  which  Douglass   had  with  Brown   and 


Through  Slavery  to  Fame.  293 

Kagai,  his  "  secretary  of  war,"  occurred  in  the  middle  of  the 
night  at  a  stone  quarry  on  the  river -bank  near  Chambers- 
burg. 

Brown,  already  suspected  and  watched  by  the  authorities, 
dared  not  enter  the  town,  fearing  that  his  presence  might  lead 
to  the  seizure  of  the  arms  and  ammunition  for  the  rise  of  his 
followers  which  he  had  collected  near  at  hand.  Again  at  that 
meeting,  with  every  forcible  expression  which  he  could  com- 
mand, Douglass  tried  to  dissuade  his  friend  from  making  the 
contemplated  attack  upon  Harper's  Ferry.  But  Brown  was 
not  to  be  moved.  In  reply  to  all  Douglass's  arguments  he 
simply  said, 

"  If  we  attack  Harper's  Ferry,  as  we  have  now  arranged,  the 
country  will  be  aroused,  and  the  negroes  will  see  their  way  clear 
to  liberation.  We'll  hold  the  citizens  of  the  town  as  hostages, 
and  so  holding  them  can  dictate  our  terms.  You,  Douglass, 
should  be  one  of  the  first  to  go  with  us." 

"  No,  no,"  replied  the  latter,  "  I  can't  agree  with  you,  and 
will  not  go  with  you.  Your  attempt  can  only  result  in  utter 
ruin  to  you  and  to  all  those  who  take  part  in  it,  without  giving 
any  substantial  aid  to  the  men  in  slavery.  Let  us  rather  go 
on  with  our  first  plan  of  the  '  underground  railroad,'  by  which 
the  slaves  may  be  run  off  to  the  free  States.  By  that  means 
practical  results  can  be  obtained.  From  insurrection  nothing- 
is  to  be  expected  but  imprisonment  and  death." 

"  If  you  think  so,"  replied  Brown,  "  it  is,  of  course,  best  that 
we  part." 

"  No,  no,"  urged  Douglass.  "Do  not  talk  of  parting.  Give 
up  your  mad  scheme  and  go  with  me." 

"  I  cannot,  I  dare  not,"  was  Brown's  answer.  "  I  must  go 
on  as  I  have  begun." 

"  But  at  least  go  with  me  now  and  take  time  for  consid- 
eration," again  urged  his  friend. 

"  No !"  replied  Brown,  in  a  tone  which  admitted  of  no  far- 


294  Twelve  Americans. 

tlier  opposition.     "  If  you  must  go  your  road,  I  too  must  go 
mine.     It  is  best  that  we  part  now." 

He  held  out  his  hand.     Douglass  grasped  it. 

"Good-bye!  God  bless  you!"  they  exclaimed,  almost  in 
the  same  breath ;  and  then,  parting  forever,  were  soon  lost  to 
each  otheV  in  the  darkness. 

Two  weeks  afterward,  on  the  night  of  October  17,  1859, 
while  he  was  lecturing  in  Philadelphia,  Douglass  heard  of  the 
attack  upon  Harper's  Ferry  and  its  results ;  heard  of  how 
bravely  the  little  band  of  insurgents  had  fought  —  how  they 
at  first  conquered,  and  how  in  the  end  utter  defeat  and  ruin 
had  fallen  upon  them. 

Farther  than  this,  he  was  assured  that  the  whole  country 
had  been  aroused  by  Brown's  attempt,  and  that  all  those  con- 
nected with  him,  even  in  the  most  remote  degree,  were  in 
danger  of  imprisonment,  if  not  of  death.  The  day  after  this 
first  news  reached  him  he  was  informed  that  numerous  letters 
of  his  had  been  found  in  John  Brown's  travelling-bag,  and 
that  he  was  liable  to  arrest  at  any  moment.  Later  in  the  day 
he  was  informed  by  a  friendly  telegraph  operator  that  de- 
spatches of  a  threatening  character  in  regard  to  him  were  al- 
ready passing  over  the  wires,  and  that  a  drag-net  was  to  be 
thrown  out  over  the  whole  country,  into  which  all  those  in 
any  way  connected  with  Brown  were  to  be  cast.  Being  as- 
sured that  this  information  was  reliable,  he  hurriedly  left  Phil- 
adelphia and  went  to  Rochester,  N.  Y.,  to  secure  or  destroy 
numerous  papers  regarding  the  Brown  movement  which  were 
in  his  possession. 

He  had'  hardly  reached  his  home  when  a  number  of  his 
staunchest  friends  came  about  him,  and,  while  assuring  him 
that,  if  necessary,  armed  resistance  would  be  made  to  his  ar- 
rest, advised  that  it  would  be  for  the  best  interests  of  all  con- 
cerned for  him  to  leave  the  country  for  a  time.  He  did  so, 
going  to  Canada,  and  ultimately  to  England,  by  way  of  Quebec. 


Through  Slavery  to  Fame.  295 

He  was  just  in  time.  A  few  hours  after  Lis  flight  United 
States  marshals  appeared  in  Rochester  to  apprehend  him ;  and 
subsequently,  as  he  discovered  many  years  later,  a  requisition 
was  made  for  his  arrest  by  the  Governor  of  Virginia.  The 
terms  of  that  requisition  were  as  follows : 

"  [Confidential.] 

"Richmond,  Va.,  November  13,  1S59. 

"  To  his  Excellency  James  Buchanan,  President  of  the  United  States,  and 
to  the  Honorable  Postmaster-general  of  the  United  States  : 
"  Gentlemen, — I  have  information  such  as  has  caused  me,  upon  proper 
affidavits,  to  make  requisition  upon  the  Executive  of  Michigan  for  the 
delivery  up  of  the  person  of  Frederick  Douglass,  a  negro  man,  supposed 
now  to  be  in  Michigan,  charged  with  murder,  robbery,  and  inciting  servile 
insurrection  in  the  State  of  Virginia.  My  agents  for  the  arrest  and  rec- 
lamation of  the  person  so  charged  are  Benjamin  M.  Morris  and  William 
N".  Kelly.  The  latter  has  the  requisition,  and  will  wait  on  you  to  the  end 
of  obtaining  nominal  authority  as  Post-office  agents.  They  need  be  very 
secretive  in  this  matter,  and  some  pretext  of  travelling  through  the  dan- 
gerous section,  for  the  execution  of  the  laws  in  this  behalf,  and  some 
protection  against  obtrusive,  unruly,  or  lawless  violence.  If  it  be  proper 
so  to  do,  will  the  Postmaster-general  be  pleased  to  give  to  Mr.  Kelly  for 
each  of  these  men  a  permit  and  authority  to  act  as  detectives  for  the 
Post-office  Department  without  pay,  but  to  pass  and  repass  without  ques- 
tion, delay,  or  hinderance  ? 

"  Respectfully  submitted  by  your  obedient  seiwant, 

"Henry  A.  Wise." 

It  is,  perhaps,  needless  to  state  that  this  paper  was  harmless 
against  Douglass.  lie  was  safe  in  Canada  when  it  was  issued, 
and  did  not  return  to  the  United  States  until  the  danger  was 
past. 

VI. 

DURING   THE   WAR  AND   SINCE. 

From  this  time  on,  and  until  the  breaking  out  of  the  war  of 
the  rebellion,  Mr.  Douglass  continued  to  advocate  the  abolition 
of  slavery.  When  Sumter  was  fired  upon  and  war  had  actu- 
ally begun,  he  was  one  of  the  first  to  urge  the  enlistment  of 
colored  troops.      He  then   declared  upon  the  lecturer's  plat- 


296  Tivelve  Americans. 

form,  and  in  numerous  publications  to  which  he  had  access, 
that  the  Government  was  using  only  one  of  its  hands — the 
white  and  delicate  one — while  it  held  idle  the  strong,  toil- 
hardened  black  one,  which  could  give  it  much  assistance.  This 
view  of  the  matter  he  continued  to  urge  upon  the  attention 
of  the  country  until,  in  1863,  in  conjunction  with  others,  he 
aided  in  raising  two  regiments  of  colored  soldiers,  which  were 
credited  to  the  State  of  Massachusetts.  His  two  sons  were 
among  the  first  to  join  one  of  these  regiments,  and  they  served 
in  it  gallantly.  By  his  connection  with  the  enrolment  of 
these  regiments  Douglass  gained  even  more  prominence  than 
before;  and  some  time  after  they  and  other  colored  troops 
had  been  in  the  field  he  went  to  Washington  to  argue  that  the 
negroes  should  be  allowed  the  same  pay  as  the  white  soldiers 
— they  were  then  allowed  only  half-pay — and  that  they  should 
be  exchanged  as  prisoners  of  war,  and  treated  with  the  same 
consideration  as  other  defenders  of  the  Union. 

To  present  these  views  he  went  to  Secretary  Stanton.  When 
he  was  admitted  to  him  that  quick-tempered  and  somewhat 
short-spoken  officer  demanded, 

"  Well,  sir,  what  do  you  want  ?" 

Douglass,  knowing  the  man  he  had  to  deal  with,  with  equal 
quickness  replied, 

"  I  want  you  to  listen  to  me  for  two  minutes.  I  come  here 
representing  the  black  soldiers  of  this  Government.  I  submit 
that,  doing  the  same  service,  they  are  entitled  to  the  same  pay 
as  their  white  comrades;  they  are  entitled  in  every  way  to 
the  same  consideration ;  they  should  be  exchanged  as  prison- 
ers of  war  upon  the  same  basis ;  and  if  they  are  to  be  mur- 
dered in  cold  blood,  according  to  the  present  rebel  fashion,  it 
is  the  duty  of  our  Government  to  attempt  the  estoppel  of  such 
outrages  by  bloody  retaliation  upon  Confederate  captives.  Far- 
ther than  this,  the  colored  soldiers  should  receive  promotion 
as  they  deserve  it." 


Through  Slavery  to  Fame.  297 

The  Secretary  of  "War  was  evidently  much  struck  by  what 
Mr.  Douglass  said,  but  he  was  at  a  loss  to  know  how  the  sug- 
gestions made  by  his  visitor  should  be  carried  out.  During 
the  same  interview,  however,  he  accepted  his  services,  in  the 
name  of  the  War  Department,  and  stated  that  he  would  be 
appointed  Adjutant  to  General  Thomas.  Because  of  objection 
subsequently  made  by  that  officer  Douglass  never  assumed  the 
position. 

Some  time  after  this,  during  an  interview  which  he  had 
with  President  Lincoln  upon  the  subject  of  the  condition  of 
the  colored  soldiers,  the  President,  in  opposition  to  Douglass's 
suggestion  of  retaliation,  said,  in  his  own  quiet  and  impressive 
fashion, 

"  What  good  in  the  world  would  it  do  us  to  kill  in  cold 
blood  a  lot  of  poor  fellows  who  have  nothing  to  do  with  the 
murder  of  our  boys  in  the  South  ?  It  would  not  help  our 
friends,  and  it  would  be  doing  gross  injustice  to  a  number  of 
people  who,  perhaps,  object  quite  as  much  as  we  do  to  the  out- 
rages complained  of." 

After  this  the  President  and  Douglass  continued  to  be  close 
friends,  and  at  one  period  they  held  many  conferences  as  to  the 
best  means  of  running  off  negroes  from  the  slave  States  through 
the  rebel  lines.  Ultimately,  however,  the  plan  was  abandoned; 
but  the  friendship  of  the  two  men  continued  unabated,  and 
when  Lincoln  was  assassinated  his  favorite  walking-stick,  by 
direction  of  Mrs.  Lincoln,  was  given  to  Frederick  Douglass. 

The  cane  is  now  treasured  by  "the  runaway  slave,"  as  he 
sometimes  calls  himself,  with  a  tender  regard  amounting  al- 
most to  veneration. 

Since  the  war  Frederick  Douglass  has  been  most  active  in 
his  efforts  to  improve  the  condition  of  the  colored  people.  In 
1866  he  went  to  Washington  to  urge  the  passage  of  an  amend- 
ment granting  suffrage  to  the  negroes.  In  regard  to  that  mat- 
ter he  had  an   interview   and  long  discussion   with   Andrew 

13*  ^ 


298  Twelve  Americans. 

Johnson,  and  several  interviews  with  Senators  and  leading 
members  of  Congress. 

In  1867  he  was  elected  a  delegate  from  Rochester  to  the 
Loyalists'  Convention  at  Philadelphia,  but  was  advised  not  to 
take  his  seat,  because,  as  his  friends  assured  him,  his  views 
were  so  radical  that  their  expression  could  only  result  in  dis- 
order. He  refused  to  give  up  his  place,  and  as  the  procession 
of  members  of  the  convention  was  about  to  leave  the  Square 
at  Independence  Hall  to  go  into  the  convention  chamber  it 
seemed  for  a  time  as  if  none  of  the  gentlemen  present  would 
be  liberal  enough  to  "pair  off"  with  the  black  delegate.  At 
last,  however,  Theodore  Tilton — to  his  credit  be  it  said — took 
Douglass's  arm  and  walked  with  him  into  the  Hall.  It  was 
mainly  by  the  efforts  of  Douglass  in  that  convention  that  reso- 
lutions were  passed  in  favor  of  universal  suffrage. 

Since  then  Mr.  Douglass  has  held  several  positions  of  dis- 
tinction. In  1872  he  was  a  Presidential  Elector;  afterward 
he  went  to  San  Domingo  with  the  Presidential  commission ; 
and  under  the  Administration  of  President  Hayes  he  was  made 
United  States  Marshal  of  the  District  of  Columbia. 

In  connection  with  his  acceptance  of  that  position  he  was 
somewhat  severely  and,  as  it  seems,  unjustly  criticised.  It  will 
be  remembered  that  for  a  number  of  years  prior  to  his  ap- 
pointment the  Marshal  of  the  District  was  expected  to  do  what 
was  called  "  staff  duty  "  at  the  White  House — that  is  to  say, 
he  was  required  to  act  as  a  sort  of  major-domo,  to  stand  be- 
side the  President  at  levees,  and  at  public  receptions  to  pre- 
sent to  him  the  visitors  as  they  passed  in  line.  When  Douglass 
came  into  office  this  service  was  not  required  of  him ;  and  a 
number  of  persons  in  different  parts  of  the  country  suggested 
that  if  he  could  not,  because  of  his  color,  properly  perform  all 
the  duties  belonging  to  his  office,  he  should  net  have  accept- 
ed it. 

The  truth  in  regard  to  the  matter  is,  that  the  United  States 


Through  Slavery  to  Fame.  299 

Marshal  of  the  District  of  Columbia  never  did  the  duty  de- 
scribed at  the  White  House  until  the  breaking  out  of  the  war. 
Then  it  was  thought  well,  as  a  matter  of  protection,  to  have 
him  retained  near  the  person  of  the  President ;  and  the  custom 
was  continued  during  the  Presidency  of  Mr.  Johnson,  and  af- 
terward under  the  Administration  of  President  Grant.  When 
President  Hayes  came  in,  however,  he  plainly  stated  to  Marshal 
Douglass  that  there  was  no  necessity  for  the  attendance  of  a 
civil  law  officer  upon  the  President  in  time  of  peace,  and  that 
he  would  only  upon  extraordinary  occasions  be  required  to  do 
duty  at  the  White  House.  It  was  with  this  distinct  under- 
standing that  Mr.  Douglass  accepted  the  position  of  Marshal. 
He  served  until  May,  1881,  when  President  Garfield  appointed 
him  Recorder  of  Deeds  of  the  District  of  Columbia.  Subse- 
quently he  was  retained  in  this  office  by  President  Arthur. 

The  "  runaway  slave,"  as  has  been  stated  at  the  opening  of 
this  sketch,  is  now  a  resident  of  Uniontown,  in  the  District  of 
Columbia.  He  is  a  comparatively  strong  man — strong  in  mind 
and  strong  in  body,  though  fast  advancing  upon  the  psalmist's 
limit  of  "threescore  years  and  ten."  His  life  has  been  a  most 
eventful  one,  yet  he  bears  few  traces  of  the  many  hardships 
through  which  he  has  passed. 

From  the  very  lowest  depths  he  struggled  upward  to  high 
position.  It  is  doubtful  if  any  man,  in  any  country,  commenc- 
ing so  low,  ever  climbed  so  high  as  did  Frederick  Douglass. 


WILLIAM    ALLEN, 


An  Old-time  Democrat. 


WILLIAM    ALLEN. 

i. 

OVER    THE    MOUNTAINS    INTO    THE    WORLD. 

In  the  year  1815,  after  the  battle  of  New  Orleans,  it  was 
announced  that  General  Jackson,  fresh  from  that  memorable 
and  momentous  victory,  would  pass  through  Virginia  on  his 
way  to  the  national  capital.  The  men  of  "  the  mother  State" 
were  true  to  the  Union  in  those  days ;  they  hailed  the  success 
of  the  Union  arms  with  glad  enthusiasm,  and  determined  to 
testify  their  loyalty  to  the  flag  by  doing  honor  to  the  blunt, 
brave  man  who  had  borne  it  so  nobly.  To  this  end  the  chief 
citizens  of  quaint  old  Lynchburg  met  in  the  Town-house,  and 
resolved  that  General  Jackson's  arrival  among  them  should  be 
welcomed  by  a  great  public  demonstration.  People  of  all  sorts 
and  conditions  took  part  in  the  preparations.  Every  house  in 
the  borough  was  hung  with  bunting,  with  gayly-colored  stream- 
ers, and  with  evergreens.  From  all  parts  of  the  surrounding 
country  the  loyal  men  and  women  flocked  in  to  be  present  at 
the  fete.  It  was  to  be  an  event  in  their  lives ;  and,  with  new 
coats  and  gowns,  bright  ribbons,  and  gold  chains,  which  their 
English  grandmothers  had  worn  before  them,  they  decked 
themselves  for  the  occasion. 

At  last  the  long-looked-for  day  arrived.  The  crooked  and 
narrow  streets  of  Lynchburg  were  thronged  with  people.  The 
local  military   companies,  erect   and   trim,   held   in   shape   by 


302  Twelve  Americans. 

many  cross-belts,  yet  well-nigh  bursting  with  their  own  impor- 
tance, kept  clear  tbe  passage-ways.  Every  window  was  filled 
with  the  beauty  and  chivalry  of  the  ancient  Commonwealth. 
At  convenient  places  and  in  the  public  squares  stands  had  been 
erected  for  bands  of  music  and  for  companies  of  school-chil- 
dren, who  were  to  pelt  the  victorious  General  with  flowers  and 
welcome  him  with  songs.  Everything  which  it  was  possible  to 
do  had  been  done.  The  preparations  were  all  complete,  and 
the  people  waited  for  the  coining  of  the  man  who  was  to  be 
honored  by  the  demonstration. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  sound  of  cannon-firing  in  the  distance. 
It  came  from  the  direction  of  the  Southern  turnpike,  and  an- 
nounced that  Jackson  and  his  escort  were  in  sight.  Immedi- 
ately a  committee  of  the  Selectmen  bustled  out  to  meet  their 
guest ;  and,  amid  the  shouts  of  the  people,  the  songs  of  chil- 
dren, the  music  of  military  bands,  the  firing  of  cannon,  and  the 
joyful  ringing  of  church  bells,  Andrew  Jackson,  walking  side 
by  side  with  Thomas  Jefferson,  entered  Lynchburg.  Before 
the  Town-house  the  great  Virginian,  on  behalf  of  his  people, 
welcomed  the  great  soldier.  The  Mayor  spoke  his  little  piece, 
the  Aldermen  theirs,  and  then  the  demonstration  closed,  as  all 
human  demonstrations  will.  The  people  began  to  disperse, 
and  the  two  great  men  retired  to  a  quiet  room  in  the  old  Bird 
Tavern,  to  rest  and  refresh  themselves  after  the  excitement  and 
fatigue  of  the  day.  This  was  an  opportunity  which  had  long 
been  waited  for  by  two  little  boys — one  of  them  the  son  of 
the  landlady,  the  other  a  handsome,  tow-headed,  blue-eyed 
urchin,  his  playfellow  and  companion  in  mischief.  They,  too, 
wanted  to  see  the  men  about  whom  they  had  heard  so  much ;  and, 
as  the  door  of  "  the  best  room  "  was  opened  to  admit  the  black 
slave  who  was  serving  the  visitors,  Jefferson  saw  them  peeping  in. 

''What  do  you  want,  my  young  gentlemen?"  he  asked,  in  a 
kindly  tone ;  and  the  white-haired  boy  modestly,  yet  boldly, 
replied, 


An  Old-time  Democrat.  303 

"  We  wanted  to  see  Mr.  Jefferson  and  General  Jackson,  if 
yon  please,  sir." 

"Ob,  if  that's  all,"  replied  Jefferson,  laughing,  "you  had 
better  come  in."  And,  without  farther  invitation,  the  two 
children  walked  into  the  room  occupied  by  the  statesman  and 
the  soldier.  He  of  the  blue  eyes  and  tow  head,  being  much 
the  brightest  of  the  young  intruders,  was  petted  most,  ques- 
tioned most,  and  had  soon  informed  the  gentleman  that  he 
was  nine  years  old,  had  been  born  in  Eatonton,  North  Caro- 
lina, and  had  lived  in  Lynchburg  four  or  five  years. 

"And  what  is  your  name,  my  brave  little  Democrat?"  at 
length  asked  Jackson ;  and  the  boy,  with  much  unconscious 
pride  in  his  tone,  replied, 

"My  name  is  William  Allen,  sir." 

It  was  indeed  William  Allen,  afterward  of  Ohio — William 
Allen,  who  was  for  years  the  last  true  representative  of  what 
was  the  great  Western  Democracy ;  William  Allen,  who  was  a 
leader  in  Congress,  a  Senator  of  the  United  States ;  who  might 
have  been  nominated  for  the  Presidency ;  who  was  Governor 
of  Ohio ;  who  in  his  old  age  was  hailed  and  denounced  as  the 
originator  of  the  soft-money  theory,  the  father  of  "  the  Ohio 
idea"  in  American  finance;  who  had  the  great  good-sense  to 
refuse  public  honors  because  he  believed  thai  he  was  no  longer 
strong  enough  to  do  himself  credit  as  a  public  servant ;  who, 
almost  to  his  last  hour,  sound  in  mind  and  well  contented,  with 
but  few  regrets,  and  no  envy  or  jealousy  of  the  men  who  suc- 
ceeded him,  sat  quietly  upon  the  door-step  of  his  old  stone 
mansion  on  the  top  of  Fruit  Hill,  near  Chillicothe,  with  com- 
placency viewing  the  approach  of  a  glorious  sunset.  His  in- 
terview with  Jackson  and  Jefferson,  as  I  have  related  it,  was 
his  earliest  recollection ;  and,  having  commenced  life  under 
such  auspices,  it  was,  as  he  himself  often  said,  not  to  be  won- 
dered at  that  he  became  a  Democrat  for  life — "  a  Democrat 
dved  in  the  wool." 


304  Twelve  Americans. 

On  a  cold,  blustering  winter  day  in  the  year  1822,  William 
Allen,  a  pale,  lank  boy  of  sixteen,  who  had  been  half  educated 
in  the  local  schools,  and  who  was  principally  noticeable  for  bis 
keen,  blue  eyes  and  long,  flaxen  hair,  stood  in  one  of  the  streets 
of  Lynchburg,  Virginia.  He  had  determined  to  leave  the 
town,  and  to  seek  his  fortunes  in  the  distant  but,  even  then, 
thriving  State  of  Ohio.  He  had  a  half-sister  and  brother-in- 
law  living  at  Chillicothe,  in  that  State.  They  were  his  only 
near  relatives  then  living,  and  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  go 
to  them.  How  the  journey  was  best  to  be  accomplished  by  a 
weak  boy,  who  carried  all  his  fortune  upon  his  back,  was  the 
question  which  engrossed  his  attention  as  he  stood  in  the 
streets  of  Lynchburg  on  that  lowering  winter  afternoon. 
While  he  was  yet  undecided  he  was  approached  by  a  young 
man,  roughly  clad  in  the  costume  of  a  Kentucky  hog-drover, 
then  most  familiar  in  Lynchburg,  which  was  one  of  the  great 
pork-markets  of  the  South.  In  spite  of  his  rough  appearance, 
however,  there  was  a  certain  open  and  honest  look  about  the 
man  which  at  once  won  strangers  to  him ;  and  when  he  asked 
young  Allen  to  show  him  where  he  could  buy  some  good  to- 
bacco the  boy,  without  hesitation,  went  somewhat  out  of  his 
way  to  do  him  the  service.  Going  toward  the  shop  where  the 
purchase  was  to  be  made,  the  young  drover  said  that  he  had 
on  the  evening  before  disposed  of  all  the  hogs  he  had  driven 
from  Kentucky,  had  been  paid  his  own  price  for  them,  and  that 
on  the  next  day  he  was  going  to  set  out  for  his  home  across 
the  mountains. 

"And  how  are  you  going  to  travel?"  asked  his  companion,  who 
was  himself  so  anxious  to  make  a  journey  in  the  same  direction. 

"  Oh,  I'm  going  to  tramp  it,"  was  the  cool  reply. 

"  Going  to  cross  the  Blue  Ridge  on  foot  in  the  middle  of 
winter  ?" 

"Yes,  indeed.  It's  much  safer  than  going  on  horseback, 
and  doesn't  cost  so  much." 


An  Old-time  Democrat.  305 

Allen,  through  the  corner  of  his  eye,  looked  at  his  compan- 
ion, measured  him  from  head  to  foot,  saw  that  he  was  thor- 
oughly in  earnest,  and  then  quietly  said, 

"  I  want  to  cross  the  mountains  into  Ohio.  I  would  like  to 
go  with  you.     Will  you  let  me?" 

The  drover  stopped  for  a  moment,  looked  at  the  slim  figure 
beside  him,  laughed,  and  exclaimed, 

"Oh,  you're  joking!" 

"No,  I'm  in  earnest.  I  must  cross  the  mountains,  no  mat- 
ter how  I  go." 

"  You  would  break  down  the  first  day." 

And  to  this  William  Allen,  through  firm,  thin  lips,  and  look- 
ing fearlessly  into  the  eye  of  the  other,  replied, 

"  I  will  not  break  down  ;  I  will  hold  up  as  long  as  you  do 
and  longer." 

The  drover  was  convinced.  He  gave  the  boy  his  hand  on 
it,  and  the  next  morning  the  pale  and  cheerless  winter  sun  saw 
them,  with  knapsack  and  blanket,  setting  out  on  their  journey 
across  the  snow-capped  and  almost  pathless  mountains  of  Vir- 
ginia. Twenty-eight  miles  they  walked  that  day,  and  spent 
the  night  in  the  little  town  of  Liberty.  On  the  night  of  the 
second  day  they  reached  the  foot  of  the  dangerous  and  dread- 
ed Blue  Ridge,  and  on  the  morning  of  the  third  commenced 
the  ascent.  For  nine  hours  they  pushed  on,  dragging  them- 
selves painfully  through  snow  -  drifts  and  over  fallen  trees. 
Then  the  strong  Kentuckian  fell  exhausted  by  the  wayside. 
Young  Allen,  whose  indomitable  will  still  kept  him  on  his 
blistered  and  burning  feet,  made  a  huge  fire  of  the  dry  wood 
which  he  was  fortunate  enough  to  find  in  a  mountain  nook, 
fed  his  companion  and  himself  with  the  coarse  fare  he  had 
provided  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  and  then,  having  done 
all  he  could  do,  went  to  sleep.  The  night  passed  quietly, 
and  next  morning  the  travellers  once  more  set  out  on  their 
weary  tramp.     So  they  went  on  from  point  to  point,  encoun- 


306  Twelve  Americans. 

tering  no  great  danger,  but  overcoming  many  difficulties  by 
the  way. 

When  they  reached  a  little  place  then  known  as  Theases 
Valley,  twenty-one  miles  from  Gallipolis,  the  Kentuckian  left 
Allen,  with  many  sadly-spoken  farewells,  and  went  toward  his 
home,  while  the  boy,  with  a  heavy  heart,  set  out  upon  his  lone- 
ly walk  of  four  hundred  miles  to  Chillicothe.  In  his  path 
there  were  but  few  settlements ;  the  country  was  bare  and  deso- 
late ;  the  roads  broken,  indistinct,  and  at  times  entirely  blotted 
out  by  thick  coverings  of  snow.  But  in  spite  of  all  the  dif- 
ficulties before  him  William  Allen  was  not  dismayed.  With 
that  all -overcoming  determination  to  succeed  which  in  the 
years  that  followed  made  him  a  chief  man  in  a  great  nation, 
fresh  obstacles  only  nerved  him  to  fresh  trial.  All  night,  after 
leaving  his  companion  of  the  mountains,  the  brave  boy  walked 
on.  Dense  woods  surrounded  him  on  every  side ;  often  he 
heard  the  cry  of  some  wild  beast ;  his  eyelids  for  moments 
glued  themselves  together  in  sleep ;  but  he  came  to  no  habita- 
tion. He  dared  not  lie  down,  for  he  knew  that  if  he  did  he 
would  never  again  see  the  light  of  an  earthly  sun.  And  still 
through  all  that  terrible  night  he  kept  on,  walking  mechanical- 
ly, passing  over  the  ground  more  like  a  machine  than  a  human 
being.  When  the  sunlight  came  he  had  his  reward.  His 
weary  eyes  were  made  glad  by  the  sight  of  the  broad  Ohio, 
and,  on  the  farther  bank,  the  little  town  of  Gallipolis.  Nearing 
the  place,  however,  he  found  that  his  troubles  were  not  yet 
ended.  The  river  was  filled  with  huge  cakes  of  broken  ice, 
which  the  swollen  current  rapidly  carried  down  the  stream. 
For  this  reason  the  ferryman  refused  to  take  young  Allen 
across.  All  his  entreaties  were  in  vain ;  the  man  refused  to 
risk  his  boat  among  the  crushing  blocks  of  ice.  There  was  no 
help  for  it.  The  boy  saw  that  he  must  wait.  As  the  day 
wore  on,  however,  the  ice-cakes  in  the  river  became  thinner 
and  less  dangerous ;  and  at  last  a  negro,  who  owned  a  rickety 


An  Old-time  Democrat.  307 

old  boat,  agreed  for  a  piece  of  silver  to  take  Allen  to  the  other 
side.  With  much  difficulty  they  drew  the  boat  up-stream  for 
several  hundred  yards,  and  then,  embarking,  floated  down  with 
the  blocks  of  ice,  rowing  toward  the  opposite  shore  whenever 
they  could  slip  through  and  avoid  a  collision  with  cakes  of  a 
particularly  dangerous  appearance ;  and  so  at  last  they  reached 
Gallipolis. 

Young  Allen  hastened  at  once  to  Gates's  Tavern,  near  the 
river ;  and,  while  he  was  taking  the  hearty  meal  which  had  been 
prepared  for  him  after  the  landlord  heard  of  the  extent  of  his 
journey,  he  saw  a  fine-looking  man  in  an  adjoining  room  black- 
ing his  own  boots.  Shortly  afterward  he  was  informed  that 
the  gentleman  so  engaged  was  the  Hon.  Samuel  F.  Vinton,  who 
had  recently  been  elected  to  Congress,  and  who  was  regarded 
as  the  great  man  of  that  part  of  the  State.  The  boy  looked  at 
him  with  mingled  feelings  of  curiosity  and  awe,  never  for  a 
moment  imagining  that  he  would  live  to  serve  with  Mr.  Vinton 
in  Congress,  and  to  be  his  rival  at  the  Bar  of  Ohio.  Such, 
however,  was  the  fortune  which  fate  had  in  store  for  him. 

Leaving  Gallipolis,  thoroughly  rested  and  refreshed,  the 
young  traveller  continued  on  his  journey  through  Jackson 
County.  All  went  well  with  him  for  several  days,  but  on  what 
proved  to  be  the  last  night  of  his  wanderings  he  became  very 
lame  from  over-exertion.  His  feet,  too,  were  badly  cut  and 
blistered,  and  he  was  scarcely  able  to  drag  himself  along,  when 
suddenly  a  young  man,  two  or  three  years  older  than  himself, 
came  out  of  a  wood  into  the  road  in  front  of  him  and  said, 
with  rather  startling  abruptness, 

"  Halloo,  stranger,  where  are  you  goin'  ?" 

"  I'm  trying  to  get  to  Chillicothe,"  replied  the  young  trav- 
eller; "but  I've  fallen  lame,  and  am  not  getting  on  very 
fast." 

"If  that's  so,"  said  the  other,  with  the  rough-and-ready 
hospitality  of  the  time  and  country,  "  you  had  better  go  home 


308  Tivelve  Americans. 

and  stay  the  night  out  with  our  folks.  They  don't  often  see 
strange  ones,  and  they'll  like  to  hear  you  talk." 

The  invitation  so  readily  given  was  as  readily  accepted — the 
people  of  Ohio  were  not  so  suspicious  of  each  other  in  those 
days  as  they  have  since  become — and  in  a  few  minutes  the  foot- 
sore wanderer  was  safely  housed  in  a  rude  but  well-warmed  log- 
cabin,  containing  two  rooms,  and  giving  shelter  to  a  man  and 
his  wife,  two  daughters,  and  four  sons.  All  the  boys  subsequent- 
ly became  Allen's  warm  political  supporters.  That  night  they 
gave  him  the  best  supper  they  could  command,  and  in  the  out- 
er room  shared  their  heap  of  straw  with  him.  In  the  inside 
apartment  the  father  and  mother  and  their  two  daughters  also 
spent  the  night  upon  heaps  of  straw.  It  will  be  remembered 
that  this  was  before  Ohio  claimed  to  be  "  the  political  centre 
of  the  Republic." 

In  the  morning,  after  breakfast,  the  good  people  who  had 
thus  befriended  Allen  still  farther  aided  him  by  the  loan  of 
a  horse,  upon  which,  without  other  adventure,  he  rode  into 
Chillicothe. 

II. 

WORKING   TO   WIN. 

Arriving  at  the  home  of  his  sister,  he  was  welcomed  by  her 
and  her  husband,  and  by  their  little  son,  Allen  G.  Thurman, 
afterward  the  distinguished  United  States  Senator  from  Ohio 
and  a  prominent  Democratic  candidate  for  the  Presidency. 
While  he  was  warmly  welcomed,  however,  it  was  evident  that 
his  relatives  were  business  people  who  wasted  no  time;  for 
hardly  had  our  young  traveller  recovered  from  his  lameness 
when  he  was  placed  in  the  Chillicothe  Academy,  with  the  un- 
derstanding that  he  was  to  learn  all  he  could  in  as  short  a  time 
as  possible.  He  remained  for  two  years  in  the  school ;  and 
then,  when  he  had  just  completed  his  eighteenth  year,  he  de- 
termined to  study  law,  and  was  admitted  to  the  office  of  Judge 


An  Old-time  Democrat.  309 

Scott,  then  a  leading  member  of  the  Western  Bar.  Here  he 
did  very  well  for  a  time,  but  only  for  a  time.  In  the  room 
next  to  the  one  in  which  he  was  expected  to  read  there  was  (to 
use  his  own  quaint  and  expressive  language)  "  a  parcel  of  girls 
who,  morning,  noon,  and  night,  kept  up  an  everlasting  chatter 
and  banged  away  on  an  old  piano."  This  was  more  than  the 
young  law-student  could  bear.  He  was  distracted — whether  by 
the  music,  the  "  chatter,"  or  the  beauty  of  his  neighbors,  he  al- 
ways refused  to  disclose ;  but  at  all  events  he  found  that  he 
was  making  no  progress  in  his  studies,  and  soon  left  the  office 
of  Judge  Scott.  Entering  that  of  Colonel  King,  son  of  Rufus 
King,  of  New  York,  he  was  more  successful,  progressed  rapid- 
ly, and,  when  not  quite  twenty-one,  went  down  to  Portsmouth, 
Avhere  the  Supreme  Court  was  in  session,  to  be  examined,  and 
to  ask  for  admission  to  the  Bar. 

"When  he  arrived  at  the  insignificant  little  building  in  which 
the  court  was  held  he  found  it  filled  with  people,  and,  with 
many  misgivings,  noticed  that  several  young  men  who,  like 
himself,  were  candidates  for  legal  honors  failed  completely, 
and  were  rejected.  Thus  contemplating  defeat,  he  became  ner- 
vous and  anxious,  was  hot  and  cold  by  turns,  lost  all  control  of 
himself,  and  at  last,  in  a  fit  of  desperation,  rushed  into  an  ad- 
jacent tavern,  famed  for  its  peach-brandy  and  honey  (a  drink 
just  finding  its  way  into  Ohio),  and,  hardly  knowing  what  he 
was  doing,  drank  nearly  a  pint  of  the  brandy.  His  excitement 
was  so  great  that  the  liquor  only  had  the  effect  of  nerving  him 
for  the  examination.  He  returned  to  the  Court-house.  In 
what  seemed  to  him  an  instant  after  he  entered,  his  name  was 
called.  He  went  up  before  the  Judges,  fully  conscious  that  all 
the  people  were  looking  at  him,  and  dreading  that  they  would 
witness  his  defeat.  His  fears  Avere  not  realized.  The  first 
question  asked  him  he  answered  readily  and  correctly.  The 
brandy  gave  him  renewed  courage.  His  blood  was  on  fire, 
but  his   tongue  wagged  glibly.     His  answers   were  all  sharp, 


310  Twelve  Americans. 

fall,  and  to  the  point.  Five  minutes  after  the  examination 
commenced  one  of  the  Judges,  a  bluff  old  lawyer  of  a  school 
now  fast  dying  out,  exclaimed, 

"  Oh  h —  !  that  fellow  can  take  care  of  himself  ;  let's  go  an' 
liquor." 

The  proposition  was  agreed  to,  "William  Allen  was  announced 
as  a  member  of  the  Ohio  Bar,  and  so  ended  this  examination 
of  the  olden  time. 

It  may  be  well  to  state  that  Governor  Allen  never  related 
this  incident  without  declaring  that  the  peach -brandy  saved 
him  ;  but  at  the  same  time  he  warned  all  young  law-students 
against  a  like  preparation  for  their  examination.  The  heads  of 
the  present  generation,  he  declared,  were  not  hard  enough  to 
keep  their  balance  under  such  an  amount  of  stimulant. 

After  his  admission  young  Allen  worked  hard  at  his  chosen 
profession,  let  peach-brandy  alone,  made  rapid  progress,  and 
was  soon  a  partner  with  Colonel  King.  That  gentleman  was 
one  of  the  readiest  and  most  brilliant  jurists  then  practising  in 
the  State  ;  but  he  was  lazy  almost  beyond  belief,  relied  entirely 
upon  his  native  wit  for  success,  and  could  not  be  prevailed  upon 
to  study  his  briefs.  So  it  became  Allen's  duty  to  work  up  and 
prepare  for  trial  all  the  cases  with  which  the  firm  was  intrusted. 
This  exercise  was  just  what  he  needed.  He  rapidly  acquired  a 
very  thorough  knowledge  of  what  may  be  called  the  tricks  of 
his  trade,  and  soon  took  a  prominent  place  at  the  Bar. 

In  those  days  people  from  all  the  country  round  flocked  to 
the  Court-house.  It  was  their  chief  amusement,  and  so  the 
practising  lawyer  who  knew  what  he  was  about  and  could  talk 
well,  rapidly  gained  a  wide  reputation.  Indeed,  Allen  advanced 
so  rapidly  that  he  was  at  times  unable  to  give  attention  to  all 
the  business  which  came  to  him.  When  little  more  than  twen- 
ty-four years  of  age  he  was  recognized  as  the  most  promising 
lawyer  at  the  Ohio  Bar,  and  before  he  was  twenty-five  a  mur- 
der case  —  the  most  important,  intricate,  and  delicate  which 


An  Old-time  Democrat.  3 1 1 

had  been  tried  in  the  State  for  years — was  intrusted  to  him. 
Arrayed  against  him  were  nearly  all  the  great  men  of  the  pro- 
fession. The  day  of  trial  came.  There  was  the  most  intense 
excitement  among  the  people ;  the  court-room  was  packed. 
Everybody  anticipated  Allen's  defeat,  but  everybody  was  dis- 
appointed. The  young  man  was  equal  to  the  occasion.  He 
met  every  point  advanced  by  the  counsel  for  the  prosecution ; 
fought  them  step  by  step  upon  their  own  ground ;  and  conclud- 
ed his  defence  by  an  argument  so  brilliant  and  winning,  yet 
withal  so  logical  and  sound,  that  the  jury,  after  brief  delibera- 
tion, gave  him  the  case  and  acquitted  his  client. 

This  was  a  turning  -  point  in  William  Allen's  career.  He 
was  about  to  enter  public  life.  The  result  of  the  murder  trial 
greatly  extended  his  fame.  He  was  congratulated  on  all  sides, 
his  society  courted  by  men  of  distinction  who  were  old  enough 
to  be  grandfathers.  Indeed,  he  had  grown  so  rapidly  in  pub- 
lic favor  that  the  Democrats — or  "  Jackson  men,"  as  they  were 
called — determined  to  make  him  their  candidate  for  Congress. 
At  this  time  the  district  in  which  lie  lived  was  conceded  to 
the  Whigs  by  a  majority  of  from  1500  to  2000,  and  of  course 
the  nomination  was  tendered  to  him  simply  as  a  compliment, 
not  with  any  idea  that  he  could  be  elected.  He  accepted, 
however,  with  the  determination  to  make  a  close  and  thorough 
personal  canvass,  and  if  possible  to  get  the  scat.  Fortune  fa- 
vored him  in  the  outset.  "  Dick  "  Douglass,  a  popular  lawyer, 
secured  the  regular  Whig  nomination  ;  and  certain  elements  in 
the  party,  being  dissatisfied  with  his  selection,  "  bolted,"  and 
nominated,  as  an  Independent  Whig  candidate,  William  K. 
Bond,  the  attorney  for  the  Branch  Bank  of  the  United  States, 
which  was  then  situated  at  Chillicothc.  So  the  canvass  opened. 
Shortly  afterward  William  S.  Murphy,  a  brilliant  orator,  but  a 
man  who  had  all  his  life  been  engaged  in  an  effort  to  discover 
the  difference  between  the  truth  and  a  lie,  and  who  had  never 
succeeded,  announced   himself  as  an  Independent  Jackson,  or 


312  Twelve  Americans. 

Democratic,  candidate.  It  was  soon  discovered  that  this  was 
a  device  of  the  Whigs,  and  it  only  resulted  in  giving  Allen  the 
more  enthusiastic  support  of  his  party.  Seeing  this,  and  fear- 
ing that  they  might  lose  the  district,  the  leading  Whigs  in 
Washington  begged  Duncan  McArthur,  who  was  then  Govern- 
or of  Ohio  and  a  candidate  for  re-election,  to  forego  his  am- 
bition, and,  for  the  good  of  the  party,  accept  the  nomination 
for  Congress  in  the  Chillicothe  district.  He  consented  reluc- 
tantly ;  and,  upon  being  assured  that  every  Whig  vote  would 
be  needed  in  the  fight  for  the  United  States  Bank  then  going 
on  against  Jackson,  Douglass  and  Bond  withdrew  from  the 
canvass,  leaving  a  united  party  to  support  McArthur.  Still 
Murphy  continued  to  be  an  Independent  Democratic  candi- 
date, being,  as  was  afterward  discovered,  in  the  pay  of  the 
Whigs. 

At  this  time  stump-speaking  was  becoming  popular  in  Ohio ; 
and  Allen,  growing  more  and  more  confident  as  the  canvass 
advanced,  travelled  all  over  the  district,  talking  at  every  cross- 
roads and  blacksmith's  shop,  soliciting  the  support  of  every 
man,  woman,  and  child  he  met;  in  short,  doing  everything  he 
could  by  personal  effort  to  secure  votes.  One  evening,  while 
he  was  engaged  in  this  work,  word  came  to  him  that  Murphy 
was  announced  to  speak  the  next  morning  at  Jackson  Court- 
house, twenty  miles  away,  and  that  he  had  promised  to  make 
a  personal  attack  upon  Allen.  The  young  candidate,  although 
worn  out  with  the  work  of  the  day,  without  a  moment's  hesi- 
tation decided  that  he  would  push  on  to  Jackson  Court-house. 
A  number  of  his  supporters  supplied  him  with  a  slow-going 
but  sure-footed  horse.  Three  of  them  volunteered  to  act  as 
his  guides  through  the  thick  woods  which  lay  in  his  path,  and 
in  their  company  he  set  out.  The  night  was  a  terrible  one ; 
rain  fell  in  torrents,  and  there  was  much  danger  from  swollen 
creeks  and  fallen  trees.  Still  the  brave  little  company  pressed 
on,  and  arrived  at  the  Court-house  in  time  for  breakfast.    They 


An  Old-time  Democrat.  313 

found  half  the  county  there.  The  Judges,  who  were  friendly 
to  Murphy,  had  agreed  to  adjourn  court  to  give  him  a  hearing, 
and  hundreds  of  leading  Whigs  were  present  to  listen  to  the 
attack  which  was  to  be  made  on  the  Jackson  candidate. 
When  the  meeting  was  called  to  order  Allen,  who  in  the 
mean  time  had  rested  and  refreshed  himself,  took  a  modest 
seat  back  of  the  crowd  and  quietly  awaited  disclosures.  He 
had  not  long  to  wait.  Murphy  was  soon  introduced,  and  with 
real  eloquence  and  a  great  power  of  ridicule,  of  which  he  was 
an  acknowledged  master,  held  his  opponent  up  to  the  laughter 
of  the  audience.  He  referred  to  him  as  a  youth  who  had  left 
school  too  soon — an  overgrown  boy,  who  had  more  presump- 
tion than  sense.  Then  he  accurately,  and  with  much  humor, 
described  the  boy's  personal  appearance,  commenting  freely 
upon  his  beardless  face,  long  yellow  hair,  and  lank,  ungainly 
form.  Turning  from  time  to  time  to  the  old  and  influential 
men  in  the  company,  he  would  address  them  by  name  and  ask, 
"  Is  this  the  kind  of  a  thing  you  want  to  represent  you  in 
Congress?"  and  again,  "Is  this  the  proper  sort  of  person  to 
make  our  laws  ?"  t 

The  speech  was  a  most  effective  one  of  its  kind.  The  au- 
dience was  evidently  captured  by  it ;  and  many  of  the  Jackson 
men,  believing  that  Allen  was  hurt  beyond  recovery,  begged 
him  not  to  attempt  any  reply.  He  refused  to  listen  to  them ; 
and  saying,  "  If  I  am  worthy  to  be  your  candidate,  I  will  show 
it  now ;  if  I  am  not,  I  will  withdraw  from  the  canvass,"  he 
rose  and  walked  through  the  crowd  down  toward  the  platform 
to  answer  Murphy.  As  he  went — and  carrying  out  a  programme 
which  he  had  determined  upon  while  his  critic  was  speaking 
— he  did  his  best  to  increase  the  green  and  awkward  appear- 
ance attributed  to  him  ;  and  as  those  in  the  audience  who  knew 
him  began  to  whisper,  "There  goes  Allen,"  the  accuracy  of 
Murphy's  description  was  at  once  apparent,  and  the  entire 
company  broke  into  a  shout  of  derisive  laughter  which  could 

14: 


314  Twelve  Americans. 

not  be  controlled.  But  Allen  went  on  quietly,  not  in  the  least 
disconcerted,  and,  reaching  the  platform,  calmly  faced  the  peo- 
ple, and,  looking  straight  forward,  stood  for  fully  three  minutes 
without  uttering  a  word.  At  first  the  laughter  was  even  more 
boisterous  than  before ;  then,  wondering  what  in  the  world 
the  big,  tall,  thin  boy  meant  by  standing  there  staring  at  them, 
the  men  in  the  front  became  quiet.  Their  surprise  at  the  turn 
things  were  taking  communicated  itself  to  their  neighbors,  and 
at  last  the  silence  was  almost  painful.  Then  William  Allen 
spoke — spoke  in  that  grand,  deep,  full  tone  which  was  after- 
ward heard  and  became  famous  all  over  the  country.  Surprised, 
delighted,  almost  electrified,  that  Ohio  crowd  listened  to  him. 
For  more  than  two  hours  he  riveted  their  attention.  Murphy 
and  his  petty  personal  attack  was  never  once  alluded  to.  The 
young  speaker  confined  himself  entirely  to  the  great  public 
questions  which  were  then  agitating  the  popular  mind,  and 
displayed  so  keen  an  appreciation  of  the  necessities  of  the 
situation,  such  a  grasp  of  his  subject,  and  such  familiarity  with 
all  its  details,  that  when  he  had  finished  the  old  men  who  had 
been  appealed  to  by  Murphy  were  the  first  to  press  forward, 
offer  their  congratulations,  and  pledge  their  support.  His 
triumph  was  complete.  The  fame  of  his  performance  spread 
all  over  the  district,  and  at  the  election,  held  a  few  days  after- 
ward, he  was  elected  to  Congress  by  just  one  majority  in  a 
total  poll  of  nearly  10,000  votes;  Murphy  received  but  fifty- 
four  votes  in  the  entire  district,  and  in  Chillicothe,  where  he 
lived,  only  one — his  own. 

When  this  result  was  announced  there  was  for  a  time  great 
rejoicing  among  the  Democrats.  It  was  only  for  a  time,  how- 
ever. Shortly  after  the  election  the  Whig  leaders  announced 
that  they  would  contest  the  seat.  They  were  as  good  as  their 
word,  and  Allen  was  formally  served  with  a  notice  of  contest. 
What  to  do  he  could  not  for  the  life  of  him  tell.  The  Whig 
candidate  was  rich — he  was  poor ;  and  he  was  assured  that  it 


An  Old-time  Democrat.  315 

could  be  shown  that  a  number  of  young  men  who  Avere  not 
quite  twrenty-one,  and  therefore  not  legal  voters,  had  cast  bal- 
lots for  him.  All  night  long  he  thought  the  matter  over,  read 
all  the  law  on  the  subject  of  contested  elections,  and  then,  when 
almost  at  bis  wits'  end,  suddenly  discovered  what  he  believed 
to  be  a  way  out  of  his  difficulty.  The  next  day  he  went 
among  his  friends,  and  found  them  all  anxious  to  aid  him  in 
his  contest.  Many  offered  him  money  to  help  make  the  fight, 
and  dozens  of  them  came  forward  ready  to  swear  that  illegal 
votes  had  been  cast  for  his  opponent.  He  refused  the  money, 
would  allow  no  depositions  to  be  taken  in  his  behalf,  and  went 
quietly  about  his  ordinary  business,  while  the  Whigs  were  go- 
ing all  over  the  district  hunting  up  testimony  against  him. 

Meanwhile,  as  the  seat  belonged  to  him  on  the  face  of  the 
returns,  he  was  awarded  the  certificate  of  election,  and  went  to 
Washington.  Still  he  refused  to  make  any  argument  before 
the  Committee  on  Elections,  or  to  have  testimony  favorable  to 
him  presented.  His  friends  were  much  annoyed ;  and,  though 
he  assured  them  that  he  knew  what  he  was  about,  and  would 
triumph  in  the  end,  they  were  sure  that  his  seat  would  be 
awarded  to  the  Whigs.  This  was  the  situation  when  Thomas 
L.  Homer,  his  friend  on  the  committee,  informed  him,  by  a 
previous  agreement,  that  the  case  was  to  be  decided  that  day. 

"  Very  well,"  was  the  reply ;  "  now  I  will  go  before  them 
and  tell  my  side  of  the  story."  He  did  so  very  briefly,  made 
no  argument,  but  showed  simply  that  his  opponents  had  not 
complied  with  the  law  in  making  their  contest.  They  had 
served  him  with  notice  of  contest  before  he  had  received  the 
certificate  of  election,  and  not  after  its  receipt,  as  the  statute 
clearly  stipulated  should  be  done.  There  was  no  way  of  get- 
ting round  this  point.  It  was  too  late  to  serve  a  second  and 
legal  notice  of  contest,  and  the  committee  gave  the  seat  to 
Allen.  In  Congress  he  soon  obtained  a  prominent  place,  and, 
by  a  particularly  strong  speech  against  the  position  which  John 


316  Twelve  Americans. 

Quincy  Adams  had  taken  on  the  Ohio  Boundary-line  Question, 
became  recognized  as  one  of  the  leading  Democratic  orators  in 
the  House.  At  the  conclusion  of  that  speech  Horace  Binney, 
of  Pennsylvania,  who  was  on  the  floor,  came  over  to  him, 
shook  his  hand,  and  said, 

"  Mr.  Allen,  I  have  not  the  pleasure  of  knowing  you,  but  I 
am  convinced  that  you  are  right  on  this  question." 

III. 
THROUGH   THE  FLOOD.— VICTORY  AND   DEFEAT. 

While  still  serving  out  his  first  term  Mr.  Allen  was  again 
nominated  by  the  Democrats  of  the  Chillicothe  district.  His 
opponent  was  William  K.  Bond,  and  the  campaign  is  still 
spoken  of  by  old  residents  of  the  neighborhood  as  the  most 
closely  contested  and  exciting  ever  held  in  the  State.  "  Every 
hole  and  corner  in  the  district,"  to  use  Mr.  Allen's  own  ex- 
pression, was  thoroughly  canvassed ;  personal  appeals  were 
made  to  every  voter,  and  both  candidates  worked  day  and 
night  as  candidates  had  never  worked  before.  In  the  very 
midst  of  the  campaign,  when  the  excitement  was  at  its  height, 
they  agreed  to  take  part  in  a  two  days'  joint  discussion  at 
Portsmouth,  where  court  was  in  session,  and  an  unusually  large 
number  of  people  in  attendance.  On  the  first  day  Bond  ap- 
peared according  to  this  agreement,  and  occupied  nearly  all 
the  time  set  apart  for  the  meeting ;  but  on  the  second  day  it 
was  found  that  he  had  suddenly  and  mysteriously  left  Ports- 
mouth. Allen  suspected  that  some  trick  was  being  put  upon 
him,  but  could  get  no  hint  of-  its  character.  Not  knowing 
what  else  to  do,  he  stayed  quietly  in  Portsmouth. 

Meanwhile,  in  Washington  Court-house,  seventy-five  miles 
away,  a  flaming  handbill  announced  that  on  the  next  day  the 
honorable  and  distinguished  Whig  candidate,  William  K.  Bond, 
would  address  the  people  and  challenge  William  Allen  to  re- 


An  Old-time  Democrat.  317 

ply.  At  first  the  Democrats  of  Washington  saw  no  harm  in 
this  announcement ;  but,  hearing  nothing  from  Allen,  and  being- 
assured  by  the  leading  Whigs  that  their  champion  would  ar- 
rive that  night,  they  became  alarmed,  and  sent  a  well-mounted 
messenger  to  Chillicothe  with  a  copy  of  the  handbill.  This 
was  immediately  taken  to  Allen's  office.  Of  course  he  was 
not  there.  At  last,  however,  his  nephew,  Allen  G.  Thurman, 
was  found;  and  he  at  once,  divining  what  was  in  the  wind, 
put  a  messenger  on  the  fastest  horse  in  the  place,  and  sent  him 
on  to  Portsmouth  with  the  announcement  of  the  meeting  to 
be  held  at  Washington.  The  Democratic  candidate  was  at 
supper  when  the  messenger  arrived.  He  read  the  handbill ; 
saw  through  the  attempt  which  was  being  made  to  outwit 
him ;  saw  that  his  opponents,  at  this  exciting  stage  of  the  can- 
vass, could  make  much  capital  out  of  his  failure  to  meet  Bond 
in  a  joint  discussion  ;  and,  with  characteristic  pluck,  determined 
to  brave  the  storm  which  had,  unfortunately,  set  in  at  sun- 
down, and  ride  through  the  night  to  Washington  Court-house. 
His  friends  tried  to  dissuade  him.  Thurman's  messenger 
represented  that  the  roads  were  in  a  terrible  condition,  the 
fords  almost  impassable.  There  was  not  a  man  in  Portsmouth 
who  would  consent  to  take  the  journey  with  him.  Still  he  per- 
sisted in  his  determination.  His  horse — a  favorite  animal,  of 
extraordinary  intelligence  and  purest  blood — was  saddled,  and 
he  rode  out  of  town.  The  first  stage  of  the  journey  was  passed 
over  rapidly  and  safely,  and  the  lonely  traveller  was  just  begin- 
ning to  congratulate  himself  on  the  progress  he  was  making, 
when  he  was  startled  by  the  sound  of  rapidly-rushing  waters. 
He  was  approaching  the  swift-flowing,  and  at  times  treacherous, 
Scioto  River,  which  would  have  to  be  passed  if  he  would  reach 
Washington  in  time  for  the  meeting.  It  was  now  nearly  an 
hour  after  midnight ;  the  darkness  was  oppressive  ;  and,  trusting 
more  to  the  instinct  of  his  horse  than  to  his  own  judgment,  he 
rode  slowly  toward  the  spot  where  he  thought  the  rude  ferry- 


318  Twelve  Americans. 

house  ought  to  stand.  At  last  he  came  to  it,  and,  with  diffi- 
culty shouting  against  the  noise  of  the  swollen  river,  succeeded 
in  waking  the  keeper  of  the  ferry,  an  old  and  feeble  man,  who, 
as  it  happened,  was  his  staunch  political  supporter. 

"Be  quick,  Brown!"  he  cried,  when  the  ferryman  at  last 
appeared.     "  You  must  swing  me  over  as  fast  as  possible." 

"  It  can't  be  done,  Mr.  Allen,"  replied  the  old  man,  shouting 
through  the  wind,  and  just  recognizing  the  traveller  by  the 
light  of  the  lantern  which  he  held  high  over  his  head.  "  It 
can't  be  done,  sir.  The  old  boat  and  all  the  ferry-rigging  were 
swept  away  early  in  the  night." 

"But  I  must  get  over,"  impatiently  shouted  Allen.  "I'll 
go  down  to  the  ford." 

"It's  no  use,  sir;  it's  no  use.  The  river  is  up  six  feet,  and 
running  over  the  ford  like  mad.  Come  into  the  house  and 
wait  till  daylight." 

"No,  no;  I  tell  you  I  must  get  over,"  cried  Allen.  "My 
canvass  depends  upon  this  night's  work.  Ilelp  me  through, 
and  I'll  reward  you." 

"  Maybe  you  will,"  mumbled  the  ferryman,  "  but  it  won't 
be  in  this  world,  if  you  go  into  the  river  to-night." 

Still,  seeing  that  Allen  was  determined  to  attempt  the  cross- 
ing, he  lit  a  pine-torch  and  went  out  to  help  him.  Together 
they  quickly  decided  upon  a  plan  of  action.  Remembering  his 
trip  through  the  ice-blocks  of  the  Ohio,  Allen  led  his  horse  up- 
stream for  a  hundred  yards  or  more,  threw  the  stirrups  up  over 
the  saddle,  mounted,  and,  telling  the  frightened  and  trembling 
old  ferryman  to  hold  the  torch  high  above  his  head  and  fol- 
low slowly  down-stream  until  he  reached  the  ford,  urged  his 
brave  horse  into  the  flood.  For  a  moment  the  animal  trembled 
on  the  bank,  then  lost  his  feet,  and,  encouraged  by  the  shouts 
and  caresses  of  his  master,  swam  gallantly  for  the  farther 
shore. 

Allen  had  calculated  well :  the  current  swept  them  toward 


An  Old-time  Democrat.  319 

the  ford  as  they  crossed.  Nearer  and  nearer  the  strong  horse 
swam  to  the  opposite  shore ;  nearer  and  nearer  the  river  car- 
ried them  down  to  the  ford.  They  had  almost  reached  it, 
the  danger  was  almost  past,  when  suddenly  the  horse  stopped 
swimming  and  whinnied  in  distress.  A  great  tree  had  been 
washed  into  the  river,  and  his  feet  were  tangled  in  its  wide- 
spreading  branches.  For  a  moment  Allen  gave  up  all  hope. 
Sick  and  dizzy,  bewildered  by  the  darkness,  deafened  by  the 
roaring  of  the  flood,  he  thought  he  must  drop  from  the  saddle. 
Still  he  nerved  himself  for  one  last  effort,  and,  pulling  his 
horse's  head  to  the  side,  urged  him  to  swim  with  the  stream. 
The  brave  brute  obeyed — with  one  last,  mighty  plunge  broke 
loose  from  the  tree -top,  dashed  toward  the  ford,  obtained  a 
footing,  and  carrried  his  half-fainting  master  up  on  the  bank 
out  of  the  flood. 

"  We  are  safe !  we  are  safe !"  shouted  Allen  when  his  voice 
came  back  to  him. 

"  Thanks  to  God  and  General  Jackson  !"  came  faintly  from 
the  old  ferryman,  on  the  other  side;  and  then  the  wet  and 
weary,  but  none  the  less  determined  and  hopeful,  William 
Allen  rode  toward  Chillicothe  away  from  the  Scioto. 

At  breakfast-time,  trembling  in  every  limb,  his  horse  ready 
to  drop  to  the  ground,  he  came  into  the  town.  Thurman  and 
other  friends  were  waiting,  hoping  against  hope  that  he  would 
appear.  There  was  no  time  to  be  lost.  Quickly  a  fast  team 
was  put  to  a  light  wagon.  Allen  changed  his  clothes,  swal- 
lowed a  pint  of  hot  tea,  and  in  ten  minutes  was  driving  toward 
Washington  Court-house.  He  arrived  just  before  the  meeting- 
commenced — arrived  to  find  the  place  filled  with  people  who 
had  been  assured  that  he  would  not  dare  meet  Bond  in  a  joint 
debate.  The  Jackson  men  were  almost  mad  with  excitement; 
his  unexpected  appearance  at  the  last  moment  was  greeted 
with  cheers  and  shouts  of  delight. 

In  a  short,  sharp  speech  he  exposed  the  trick  which  the 


320  Twelve  Americans. 

Whig  managers  had  attempted,  and  then  went  to  bed,  the  hero 
of  the  hour,  and  with  the  assurance  that  he  would  have  the 
support  of  nearly  every  man  in  "Washington  Court-house. 

His  friends  did,  indeed,  stand  by  him  nobly.  He  secured 
hundreds  of  Whig  votes  in  all  parts  of  the  district,  but  he  could 
not  overcome  the  large  majority  in  his  opponent's  favor.  There 
was  much  dissatisfaction  at  this  time  because  of  the  failure  of 
the  Government  to  give  the  people  of  that  section  of  Ohio  a 
daily  mail  service.  Allen  was  recognized  as  an  Administration 
man,  and  lost  heavily  because  of  this  failure.  When  the  votes 
were  counted  it  was  found  that  he  had  run  1500  votes  ahead 
of  his  ticket,  but  that  Mr.  Bond  had  defeated  him  by  a  ma- 
jority of  more  than  two  hundred. 

The  following  winter,  Avhen  he  was  about  to  leave  the  capi- 
tal for  an  indefinite  time,  he  went  to  say  good-bye  to  the  Pres- 
ident. Jackson  expressed  much  sorrow  at  his  defeat,  and,  call- 
ing to  his  secretary,  asked  for  the  appointment-book.  When 
it  was  brought  he  turned  to  Allen  and  said, 

"  Mr.  Allen,  I  want  to  keep  you  in  public  life.  Run  your 
eye  through  that  book  and  see  what  place  you  think  would 
suit  you." 

Without  hesitation  the  defeated  Congressman — setting  an 
example  which,  unfortunately,  has  not  been  very  extensively 
im  itated — replied , 

"I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you,  Mr.  President  —  more 
obliged  than  I  can  tell  you ;  but  I  cannot  now,  and  I  do  not 
think  I  ever  will,  accept  any  office  by  appointment.  If  I  am 
to  stay  in  public  life,  it  must  be  in  a  position  to  which  the 
people  elect  me." 

"  You  are  right,  sir,"  said  the  President,  in  his  short,  blunt 
way,  and  closed  the  appointment-book.  The  ex-Congressman 
returned  to  Chillicothe,  and  practised  law  for  nearly  two  years. 

During  the  exciting  Presidential  campaign  which  resulted  in 
the  election  of  Martin  Van  Buren   over  Harrison,  Mr.  Allen 


An  Old-time  Democrat.  321 

worked  with  much  energy  to  secure  the  success  of  Democratic 
candidates  for  the  Legislature,  and  when  the  contest  was  over 
he  had  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  his  party  would  have 
a  majority  of  one  on  joint  ballot.  There  were  no  "bolters" 
in  those  days ;  a  party  majority  of  one  was,  for  all  practical 
purposes,  as  good  as  fifty,  and  it  was  assured  that  Ohio  would 
elect  a  Democrat  to  the  United  States  Senate.  This  was  the 
situation  when  Allen  went  up  to  Columbus,  the  State  capital, 
to  attend  to  business  of  a  personal  character.  The  Legislature 
was  then  in  session ;  and  on  the  evening  after  his  arrival  the 
Democratic  members — ostensibly  to  celebrate  the  election  of  a 
Democratic  United  States  Senator  who  had  just  been  chosen 
in  Louisiana,  but  really  for  the  purpose  of  becoming  better  ac- 
quainted with  their  own  candidates  for  that  office,  who  were 
then  in  Columbus  by  the  dozen — announced  that  a  Democratic 
reunion  and  supper  had  been  arranged.  To  this  entertainment 
Governor  Lucas  and  all  the  other  prominent  candidates  were 
invited,  Robert  Lytle,  of  Cincinnati,  who  was  warmly  pressed 
by  the  influential  delegation  from  that  part  of  the  State,  being 
among  the  number.  At  first. the  projectors  of  the  entertain- 
ment ignored  Allen's  presence  in  the  city,  but  late  in  the  day 
invited  him,  not  as  one  of  the  candidates,  but,  as  they  assured 
him,  in  consideration  of  his  distinguished  services  to  the  De- 
mocracy in  Congress  and  upon  the  stump.  He  accepted  the 
invitation  more  from  motives  of  curiosity  than  anything  else, 
and  went  to  the  supper  to  see  how  the  Senatorial  aspirants 
would  conduct  themselves.  He  found  them  all  assembled, 
Governor  Lucas  and  Mr.  Lytle  being  the  most  prominent ;  and 
after  supper,  in  accordance  with  a  previous  understanding,  they 
were  each  in  turn  toasted  and  called  upon  to  speak.  Lucas 
acquitted  himself  fairly,  others  not  so  well ;  and  then,  taking 
advantage  of  the  most  favorable  opportunity,  Lytle,  the  Cin- 
cinnati candidate,  was  introduced,  greeted  with  cheers  (which 
there  was  a  good  deal  of  reason  to  believe  had  been  arranged 

14* 


322  Twelve  Americans. 

for  in  advance),  and  lifted  upon  one  of  the  tables  by  his  ad- 
mirers. From  tbis  somewhat  insecure  but  nevertheless  con- 
spicuous position  he  made  an  exceedingly  witty  and  effective 
after-dinner  speech. 

One  or  two  of  the  older  heads  who  were  not  given  to  much 
wine-drinking  seemed  to  have  a  suspicion  that  it  was  not  ex- 
actly the  address  which  might  have  been  expected  from  a  can- 
didate for  so  important  and  responsible  a  position  as  Senator 
of  the  United  States.  The  great  majority  of  those  present, 
however,  voted  the  speech  an  admirable  one,  and,  with  loud 
cheers  for  Lytle,  were  about  to  break  up  the  entertainment. 
Indeed,  some  of  them  were  on  the  point  of  leaving  the  dining- 
hall,  when  it  was  suggested  that  there  was  a  distinguished  ex- 
Democratic  member  of  Congress  present,  and  that  he  be  asked 
to  say  a  few  words.  Immediately  there  was  a  movement  to 
place  Allen  upon  the  table  which  Lytle  had  just  been  lifted 
from,  but  he  said  that  he  preferred  to  remain  where  he  was ; 
and  from  a  dark  corner  of  the  room,  in  a  position  where  his 
tall,  commanding  form  showed  to  the  best  advantage,  he  com- 
menced his  speech.  Keenly  appreciating  dramatic  situations 
of  every  sort,  and  having  but  little  patience  with  the  light  tone 
of  Lytle's  address,  he  commenced  with  all  the  earnestness  he 
could  command  to  discuss  grave  questions  of  state,  and,  with 
that  great  gift  of  language  and  vigor  of  utterance  for  which  he 
was  noted,  urged  the  Democratic  representatives  to  worthily 
perform  the  duties  which  had  been  intrusted  to  them,  warned 
them  of  the  dangers  which  threatened  their  party  in  the  State 
and  the  nation,  and,  closing  in  the  most  impressive  style,  sat 
down  amid  shouts  of  applause  which  shook  the  building.  Go- 
ing out  shortly  afterward,  he  noticed  ten  or  twelve  of  the  older 
men  talking  earnestly  together.  As  he  was  about  to  pass,  one 
of  them  put  his  arm  about  him  and  said, 

"  You  are  to  be  our  candidate  for  United  States  Senator." 
Quickly  seeing  his  opportunity,  Allen  took  the  hint,  set  his 


An  Old-time  Democrat.  323 

friends  to  work,  made  a  characteristic  personal  canvass,  and, 
when  the  Democratic  caucus  met,  was  nominated  on  the  second 
ballot,  receiving  every  vote  polled.  In  March,  183*7,  he  took 
his  seat — the  youngest  man  ever  elected  to  the  United  States 
Senate. 

IV. 

WITH   GREAT   MEN". 

When  Senator  Allen  arrived  in  Washington  he  found  the 
city  filled  with  strangers,  who  had  come  from  all  parts  of  the 
country  to  be  present  at  the  inauguration  of  President-elect 
Van  Buren.  Among  them  were  a  number  of  leading  men  from 
Ohio,  and  they  occupied  so  much  of  their  newly-elected  Sena- 
tor's time  that  it  was  not  until  late  on  the  night  of  the  3d  of 
March  that  he  had  an  opportunity  of  speaking  informally  and 
freely  with  his  life-long  friend,  President  Jackson.  On  that 
night  he  entered  the  White  House,  a  Senator  of  the  nation,  to 
see  the  great  man  who,  little  more  than  twenty  years  before,  in 
the  Lynchburg  tavern,  had  laughed  at  his  boyish  curiosity  and 
wondered  at  his  ready  tongue.  Without  ceremony,  being  well 
known  to  the  attendants,  he  was  shown  into  the  President's 
bed-chamber.  Chief-justice  Taney  and  Mr.  Forsythe,  of  Geor- 
gia, Secretary  of  State  and  ex-Minister  to  Spain,  were  already 
in  the  room ;  and  Jackson,  himself  active,  and  to  a  certain  ex- 
tent restless,  as  usual,  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  smok- 
ing a  short  corn-cob  pipe.  He  congratulated  Allen  warmly 
upon  his  election  to  the  Senate,  and  then  calling  to  a  young 
Irishman  who  acted  as  his  body-servant  and  waiter,  turned  to 
his  visitors  and  said, 

"  Gentlemen,  I  think  the  occasion  will  warrant  me  in  break- 
ing over  one  of  my  own  rules.     Let  us  drink  a  little  Madeira." 

The  wine  was  brought.  Jackson  took  a  small  glassful — it 
was  the  first  he  had  been  known  to  touch  for  several  months — 
and  then,  asking  his  friends  to  excuse  him  for  a  few  moments, 


324  Twelve  Americans. 

he  finished  writing  a  letter  upon  which  he  was  engaged,  sealed, 
directed  it,  and,  lighting  his  cob  pipe  again,  took  a  whiff  or 
two.  Then  he  stood  silently  watching  the  face  of  a  tall,  old- 
fashioned  clock  which  stood  in  one  corner. 

It  was  five  minutes  before  midnight  —  five  minutes  before 
the  advent  of  the  day  on  which  Andrew  Jackson  would  cease 
to  be  President  of  the  United  States.  Slowly  the  minute- 
hand  moved  on  the  dial.  The  silence  in  the  room  became 
almost  painful.  It  was  broken  by  the  clear,  sharp  bell  of  the 
clock  striking  the  last  hour  of  a  day  which  had  gone  forever. 
Then  Jackson,  starting  suddenly,  and  looking  toward  his 
friends,  said,  with  a  quick,  nervous  laugh, 

"  Gentlemen,  I  am  no  longer  President  of  the  United  States! 
but  as  good  a  citizen  as  any  of  you." 

Subsequently  he  expressed  to  them  a  feeling  of  great  relief 
at  the  prospect  of  escaping  from  the  official  cares  which  had 
begun  to  weigh  most  heavily  upon  him,  saying  to  Allen,  among 
other  things  of  the  same  sort,  "  I  am  very  glad  to  get  away 
from  all  this  excitement  and  bother." 

That  day  Van  Buren  was  inaugurated  President  of  the 
United  States,  and  Jackson,  at  the  end  of  his  second  term, 
left  the  "White  House — left  it  so  poor  that  he  was  obliged  to 
borrow  from  his  friends  $5000  to  rebuild  the  "Hermitage," his 
old  family  mansion,  which  some  time  before  had  been  burned 
to  the  ground. 

After  the  short  executive  session  of  the  Senate  which  follow- 
ed the  inauguration  of  the  newly -elected  President,  Senator 
Allen  returned  to  his  home.  Of  his  service  in  the  Senate, 
which  is  matter  of  public  record,  nothing  need  be  said  here. 
Just  before  the  expiration  of  his  first  term  he  went  behind  the 
Legislature,  if  the  expression  may  be  allowed,  and,  for  the  first 
time  announcing  the  doctrine  that  a  United  States  Senator  is 
a  popular  representative,  appealed  directly  to  the  people  as  a 
candidate  for  re-election.     The  result  was  that  the  Democrats 


An  Old-time  Democrat.  325 

had  a  handsome  majority  in  the  Legislature  pledged  to  him, 
and  he  was  re-elected  without  opposition.  In  the  mean  time 
Harrison  had  been  elected  to  the  Presidency,  and  had  died. 
Tyler  had  been  installed  in  the  White  House,  and,  with  the 
help  of  Allen  and  two  or  three  others,  had  done  much  to 
brealc  up  the  Whig  Party. 

It  was  while  Senator  Allen  was  serving  out  his  second  term 
that  the  memorable  Democratic  Convention  of  1848  was  held 
in  Baltimore.  His  friends  had  urged  him  to  be  a  candidate, 
but  he  did  not  see  his  way  clear  to  a  nomination,  and  had  in- 
variably declined  to  allow  his  name  to  be  used.  When  the  con- 
vention came  together,  however,  it  was  found  that  the  delegates 
were  nearly  equally  divided  between  Cass  and  Van  Buren.  The 
principal  supporters  of  both  gentlemen  refused  to  yield,  and  it 
was  feared  that  a  bitter  and  disastrous  quarrel  would  be  the  re- 
sult. In  their  anxiety  to  bring  about  a  compromise,  but  still 
unwilling  to  give  up  to  each  other,  a  committee,  composed  of 
both  Cass  and  Van  Buren  men,  went  from  Baltimore  to  Wash- 
ington to  consult  with  Senator  Allen  and  ascertain  if  he  would 
accept  the  nomination.  It  was  nearly  midnight  when  they 
arrived  at  his  house,  and  the  servants  told  them  that  he  had 
retired  to  his  room  and  could  not  be  seen.  They  insisted  upon 
being  admitted,  however,  and,  going  to  the  Senator's  rooms, 
found  him  sitting  on  the  edge  of  the  bed  in  his  night-clothes. 
He  was  not  a  man  to  take  offence  at  the  intrusion  —  they 
were  sure  of  that — and,  without  ceremony,  they  at  once  made 
known  the  object  of  their  visit.  They  told  him  that  they 
were  hopelessly  divided  between  Cass  and  Van  Buren ;  that 
there  was  no  prospect  that  they  would  be  able  to  settle  their 
differences;  and  for  the  sake  of  harmony,  and,  as  they  said, 
hoping  to  serve  the  best  interests  of  the  party,  they  formally 
offered  him  the  nomination,  with  the  assurance  that  the  con- 
vention would  indorse  and  ratify  any  action  they  might  take. 
The  Senator  never  changed  his  position.     In  his  night-dress  as 


326  Twelve  Americans. 

he  was,  lie  sat  there  on  the  edge  of  his  narrow  bed  and  thought 
over  the  tempting  offer  which  was  being  made  to  him.  He 
did  not  deny  that  he  was  gratified  by  it  or  that  he  was  ambi- 
tious to  be  President.  There  is  no  doubt  that  it  cost  him  a 
struggle  to  refuse  the  nomination ;  but  he  did  refuse,  and  for 
the  reason  that  to  accept  it  would  have  been  to  betray  Cass. 
His  mind  was  quickly  made  up ;  and,  turning  to  the  commit- 
tee, he  said,  quietly,  but  with  much  suppressed  emotion,  "Gen- 
tlemen, I  thank  you,  but  I  cannot  accept."  "Why?  why?" 
they  asked,  almost  in  one  breath ;  and  he  replied, 

"  I  will  be  frank  with  you.  Your  offer  is  the  most  tempt- 
ing which  has  ever  come  to  me  in  my  life.  I  want  to  accept 
it,  but  I  cannot,  I  will  not,  because  through  all.  this  contest 
I  have  been  the  personal  friend  and  adviser  of  Mr.  Cass.  I 
have  always  been  friendly  to  Mr.  Van  Buren,  but  Cass  has 
trusted  me  absolutely  with  all  the  details  of  his  canvass;  has 
taken  my  advice  in  everything ;  has  done  nothing  of  impor- 
tance which  did  not  meet  my  approval.  For  me  to  accept  the 
nomination  after  all  this  would  seem  very  much  like — indeed, 
I  think  it  would  be — a  treacherous  betrayal  of  my  friend.  For 
these  reasons  I  must  not  and  will  not  accept  the  nomination. 
I  am  for  Cass  until  the  end,  and  if  you  really  want  to  serve  me 
you  will  go  back  to  Baltimore  and  nominate  him." 

They  did  as  he  requested  them,  and  next  day  Cass  was  made 
the  Democratic  candidate  for  President.  Mr.  Allen  never  re- 
gretted his  loyalty  to  the  man  who  trusted  him. 

Shortly  after  the  adjournment  of  the  convention  Cass  came 
to  him  and  said,  "Allen,  you  have  sacrificed  a  great  deal  for 
me,  but  I  want  you  to  serve  me  still  farther." 

"  Command  me,  sir,"  was  his  reply. 

"A  thousand  thanks!"  said  Cass,  in  the  impulsive  and  just 
a  little  insincere  fashion  which  was  characteristic  of  him ;  and 
then,  as  if  fearing  a  refusal,  he  went  on  rapidly:  "What  I 
want  you  to  do  now  is,  to  go  through  New  York  State  with 


An  Old-time  Democrat.  327 

me.  You  arc  known  as  having  always  been  a  staunch  sup- 
porter of  Van  Buren,  and  if  you  make  the  trip  with  me  I  am 
sure  I  will  be  able  to  settle  the  trouble  among  his  friends,  and 
reconcile  them  to  my  nomination." 

Senator  Allen,  without  more  ado,  promised  to  do  as  he  w&s 
asked,  and  a  few  days  afterward  he  accompanied  Cass  to  Phil- 
adelphia. There  they  stopped,  and  while  on  the  wharf  waiting 
for  the  steamboat  to  start  the  Democrats  in  the  crowd  insisted 
on  hearing  a  speech  from  Allen.  While  he  was  talking  to 
them  a  steam-whistle — manipulated,  it  was  believed,  by  some 
malicious  Whig — began  to  scream,  but,  exerting  his  truly  mag- 
nificent voice  to  the  utmost,  he  made  himself  distinctly  heard 
by  every  one  present ;  and  long  afterward  it  was  the  boast  of 
the  Democrats  in  that  part  of  the  country  that  their  champion, 
"  Bill "  Allen,  as  he  was  familiarly  called  by  his  admirers, 
could  talk  down  all  the  Whig  steam-whistles  in  Philadelphia. 

From  Pennsylvania  he  went  with  Mr.  Cass  as  far  as  Albany, 
N.  Y.,  making  speeches  at  many  places  on  the  road,  and  every- 
where begging  the  friends  of  Van  Buren  to  forget  their  disap- 
pointment at  the  defeat  of  their  candidate  and  give  their  ear- 
nest support  to  the  party  nominee.  All  his  efforts  proved  un- 
availing. In  the  Whig  Convention  Taylor  was  nominated  over 
Clay,  and  in  the  election  which  followed  Cass  was  defeated. 

During  all  this  exciting  period  in  the  political  history  of  the 
country  Senator  Allen  gave  no  attention  to  his  own  interests, 
or  to  the  campaign  in  his  own  State.     His  wife,*  to  whom  he 

*  Mr.  Allen's  wife  was  the  daughter  of  Governor  McArthur,  who  was 
his  early  political  opponent.  She  died  in  Washington,  in  the  severe  win- 
ter of  1847 ;  and,  there  being  then  no  railway  communication  between  the 
two  places,  it  is  noteworthy  that  he  took  her  body  to  Chillicothe,  where 
she  wished  to  be  buried — through  forests  and  over  mountains — in  a  hearse 
made  for  the. purpose.  He  rode  on  horseback,  and  at  night,  when  a  halt 
was  made,  watched  by  the  body.  A  daughter — the  amiable  and  accom- 
plished Mrs.  Dr.  Scott,  of  Fruit  Hill — lived  to  comfort  the  declining  years 
of  the  old  Democrat. 


328  Twelve  Americans. 

was  fondly  attached,  died  toward  the  end  of  his  second  term  in 
the  Senate.  He  mourned  her  with  heart -felt  sincerity,  and 
was  so  shaken  by  her  loss  that  he  was  unable  to  take  any  part 
in  the  Ohio  canvass  for  members  of  the  Legislature. 

The  Whigs,  meanwhile,  saw  their  opportunity — worked  un- 
ceasingly, secured  a  large  majority  in  the  Assembly,  and  elected 
Mr.  Chase  to  the  national  Senate.  Mr.  Allen's  term  expired 
on  the  night  before  President-elect  Taylor  took  his  seat;  and 
on  that  night,  accompanied  by  Jefferson  Davis — with  whom  he 
was  on  terms  of  intimacy — he  paid  his  respects  to  the  success- 
ful leader  of  his  political  opponents.  He  never  saw  the  Presi- 
dent again. 

The  next  day  he  returned  to  his  home  near  Chillicothe,  and 
did  not  again  accept  public  office  until  he  was  elected  Governor 
of  Ohio,  in  1873.*  Regarding  that  campaign  and  the  one 
which  followed  it,  in  which  he  was  defeated  on  the  money  is- 
sue by  Mr.  R.  B.  Hayes,  the  old  statesman  could  never  be  in- 
duced to  speak,  and  upon  that  subject  nothing  need  be  said 
here. 

Just  prior  to  the  breaking  out  of  the  war  Mr.  Allen  was 
bitterly  opposed  to  Abraham  Lincoln  and  the  doctrines  of  the 
party  which  supported  him.  He  was  always  opposed  to  seces- 
sion, however,  and  was  firmly  convinced  that  if  he  had  been  in 
the  Senate  in  1859  and  1860  the  Southern  States  would  never 
have  left  the  Union.  Although  a  Democrat  first  and  last,  he 
never  faltered  in  his  devotion  to  that  Union,  and  when  the  war 
broke  out  he  advocated  its  vigorous  prosecution  until  every 
wayward  State  had  been  brought  back  into  the  republican 
family. 

*  It  is  worthy  of  note  that  while  Mr.  Allen  was  Governor  of  Ohio,  and 
unable,  because  of  palsy  of  the  hand,  to  write  his  name,  the  Legislature 
passed  an  act  permitting  him  to  stamp  public  documents  with  a  facsimile 
of  his  signature. 


An  Old-time  Democrat.  329 


V. 

A  WESTERN  SUNSET. 

Skated  on  the  broad  door-step  of  his  hospitable  old  mansion 
on  the  summit  of  Fruit  Hill,  uear  Chillicothe,  Governor  Allen  re- 
lated to  me  these  incidents  in  his  eventful  life.  At  that  time 
(in  June,  1879)  he  was  still  a  strong  man — particularly  strong 
in  mind.  His  clear  blue  eyes  had  lost  none  of  their  wonderful 
magnetism,  and  his  sonorous  voice  but  little  of  its  old-time 
volume.  His  tall  frame  had  bent  somewhat  under  the  weight 
of  passing  years;  but,  like  the  old  stone  dwelling-place  he 
loved  so  well — a  house  which  sheltered  a  Governor  of  Ohio 
fifty  years  ago — he  as  yet  gave  no  indication  that  he  would 
not  be  able  to  withstand  the  blasts  of  many  a  winter  to  come. 

The  sun  was  setting  in  a  bank  of  glorious  summer  clouds  as 
the  great  old  man  finished  the  story  of  his  life.  Mount  Logan, 
in  the  distance,  was  yet  bright  with  the  golden  light,  but  in  the 
Valley  of  the  Scioto,  down  below,  the  shadows  were  falling 
rapidly.  Through  the  dark -green  trees  the  old  white  stone 
houses  of  Governors  Tiffin  and  Worthington  appeared  as  mon- 
uments to  the  memory  of  men  long  dead.  The  shadows  from 
the  valley  crept  slowly  up  Fruit  Hill,  the  brightness  was  fad- 
ing on  the  summit  of  Mount  Logan,  and  then — 

"Governor,  why  do  you  refuse  to  enter  public  life  again?" 
I  asked ;  and  he,  after  a  long  pause,  replied, 

"Because  I  am  one  of  the  few  old  men  who,  like  Horatio 
Seymour,  and  unlike  Harry  Clay,  know  when  I  have  reached 
my  highest  point — when  it  is  time  for  me  to  give  up  the 
power  which  I  am  no  longer  strong  enough  to  use  for  the 
good  of  the  people." 

And  then,  with  his  face  turned  to  the  rich  light  of  the  set- 
ting sun,  with  the  shadows  all  behind  him,  ripe  with  age  and 
full  of  honors,  I  bade  farewell  to  William  Allen,  the  sometimes 


330  Twelve  Americans. 

bitter  but  always  faithful  partisan,  the  honest  politician,  the 
statesman  of  the  olden  school. 

In  the  early  morning,  on  July  11,  1879,  Governor  Allen 
dropped  quietly  into  a  chair  at  his  residence  and  died,  peace- 
fully and  without  pain.  On  the  day  previous  he  had  been  ac- 
tive and  well  as  usual,  and  visited  a  number  of  old  friends  in 
Chillicothe.  He  had  frequently  expressed  a  desire  to  so  end 
his  days — peacefully,  quietly,  and  without  protracted  sickness. 


u  The  Senator  from  Ohio. 


n 


ALLEN    G.    THURMAN. 


"  The  Senator  from  Ohio.' 


ALLEN   G.  THUEMAN. 


EARLY   RECOLLECTIONS. 

It  is  noticeable  that  in  the  story  of  the  life  of  Governor 
Allen  frequent  mention  is  made  of  his  nephew,  Allen  G.  Thur- 
man.  Such  mention  is  necessitated  by  the  fact  that  their  ca- 
reers were  for  a  long  time  most  closely  linked  together.  In- 
deed, it  would  not  be  possible  truthfully  to  tell  the  story  of  the 
one  without  making  repeated  reference  to  the  career  of  the 
other.  Taken  together,  the  record  of  their  trials,  their  work, 
their  achievements,  and  their  success  forms  a  most  interesting 
chapter  in  the  history,  not  only  of  Ohio,  but  of  the  nation.  It 
was  the  fortune  of  the  nephew  to  win  even  greater  distinction 
than  that  which  came  to  the  uncle,  and,  though  the  difference 
in  their  ages  was  not  great,  prominently  to  serve  a  much  later 
generation.  It  was  not  until  1880  that  "  the  Senator  from 
Ohio  " — the  last  great  Senator  from  that  State — retired  from 
the  national  Legislature.  He  did  so,  after  twelve  years  of  ser- 
vice in  the  upper  House,  with  a  record  for  honesty,  industry, 
energy,  and  ability  which  any  man  might  envy. 

Like  many  other  statesmen  of  the  old  school  who  have 
done  credit  to  their  country,  Mr.  Thurman  was  born  in  Vir- 
ginia, "  the  mother  of  Presidents."  He  came  of  good  stock. 
His  grandfather  was  a  Baptist  clergyman,  who  owned,  by  in- 
heritance and  otherwise,  a  considerable  number  of  slaves,  but 


332  Twelve  Americans. 

who  early  iu  life  became  imbued  with  such  just  ideas,  in  re- 
gard to  personal  liberty  and  the  general  question  of  slavery, 
that  he  determined  to  embrace  the  first  favorable  opportunity 
of  setting  his  human  chattels  free.  Cherishing  such  feelings 
toward  one  of  the  established  institutions  of  the  country  and 
the  people  among  whom  he  lived,  he  soon  found  that  the 
atmosphere  of  "  the  Old  Dominion  "  was  anything  but  a  con- 
genial one.  Fully  realizing  this,  he  at  last  made  up  his  mind 
to  emigrate  to  Ohio.  At  this  time,  in  the  year  1819,  young 
Allen  was  a  child  of  six  years ;  yet,  singularly  enough,  he  is  still 
able  to  recall  many  of  the  incidents  which  occurred  during  the 
journey  made  by  himself  and  his  family  across  the  mountains 
from  Lynchburg,  his  birthplace,  into  what  was  then  regarded 
as  the  far  Western  territory.  Indeed,  it  is  noteworthy  that 
Mr.  Thurman  still  remembers  events  in  his  life  prior  to  the 
time  spoken  of,  his  faculty  in  this  direction  being  among  the 
most  remarkable  evidences  of  the  early  age  at  which  a  child 
may  receive  impressions  that  last  through  life.  Perhaps  the 
earliest  of  his  recollections  was  the  killing,  in  company  with  a 
playmate,  of  a  snake  in  what  is  now  one  of  the  most  populous 
portions  of  Lynchburg.  Then,  when  the  boy  was  only  three 
or  four  years  old,  he,  with  his  companion,  went  into  a  stable  in 
an  isolated  part  of  the  old  town,  and  while  there,  much  to  his 
dismay,  saw  a  long  black  reptile  hissing  in  a  corner.  His 
companion,  braver  and  older  than  he,  seized  a  hoe,  and  with  it 
put  an  end  to  the  snake  and  to  young  Allen's  fears. 

Shortly  after  this  occurrence,  while  the  child,  with  his  par- 
ents, lived  in  Amherst,  across  the  river  from  Lynchburg,  he  rec- 
ollects distinctly — and  among  his  intimate  associates  at  times 
recalls  the  fact — that  he  crossed  the  James  on  horseback  with 
his  father,  and  that  the  latter  was  careful  to  say  to  him,  when 
in  the  midst  of  the  flood, 

"  Look  up,  Allen !  Look  up !  If  you  keep  your  eyes  on  the 
water  in  that  way  your  head  will  swim,  and  you  may  fall  off." 


"  The  Senator  from  Ohio"  333 

With  this  most  considerate  of  parents — who  was  rendered 
poor  by  the  brave  and  humane  resolve  of  his  father  to  set  his 
slaves  free — young  Allen  crossed  the  mountains  into  Ohio  over 
what  was  then  but  little  better  than  an  Indian  trail.  The  ap- 
pearance presented  by  the  band  of  pioneers  must  have  been  in 
every  way  a  picturesque  one,  and  the  simple  recital  of  their 
journey  cannot  fail  to  be  of  interest.  It  is  particularly  so,  as 
indicative  of  the  remarkable  and  rapid  progress  of  the  country 
through  which  they  then  passed.  That  country  was  at  the 
time  spoken  of  scarcely  better  than  a  wilderness.  Now  it 
abounds  with  thriving  agricultural  districts,  enterprising  towns, 
and  rich  mining  settlements. 

All  the  personal  effects  of  the  family  were  packed  in  a  huge 
six-horse  wagon,  which,  with  great  difficulty,  and  by  the  aid 
of  the  negroes,  who  were  looking  toward  Ohio  as  the  "  land 
of  promise,"  was  laboriously  hauled  up  the  steep  pathways, 
through  the  forests,  and  along  the  New  River.  A  smaller 
vehicle  was  provided  for  the  carrying  of  the  white  people,  or 
"  quality,"  as  they  were  then  called ;  and  so,  making  never 
more  than  twenty  miles  a  day,  the  boy  who  was  destined  to 
become  famous  in  American  politics,  and  who  will  undoubt- 
edly be  long  remembered  as  one  of  the  leaders  in  American 
statesmanship,  traversed  the  wilderness  to  the  country  which 
was  to  become  his  home. 

Fortunately  for  the  little  party,  other  emigrants  from  Vir- 
ginia had,  during  the  two  or  three  years  previous,  gone  over 
the  same  pathway  into  the  free  West,  and  they  found  along  it 
at  intervals  way-side  taverns  where,  at  slight  cost,  they  obtained 
abundant  though  extremely  plain  fare.  Travelling  in  this  way, 
and  without  encountering  any  adventure  of  interest,  the  family 
reached  what  was,  even  then,  the  thriving  little  city  of  Chilli- 
cothe,  in  Ohio.  As  to  the  negroes  who  made  the  trip  with 
them,  it  is  only  necessary  in  passing  to  say  that  the  women,  by 
industry  and  hard  work,  were  greatly  benefited  by  their  libera- 


334  Twelve  Americans. 

tion ;  while  the  men,  assuming  as  many  as  possible  of  the  vices 
of  those  who  had  been  their  masters,  degenerated  into  worth- 
less tramps  and  outcasts. 

The  boy  Allen  wras  between  six  and  seven  years  of  age  when 
he  reached  his  new  home.  Arriving  there,  his  father,  who  had 
been  intended  for  a  preacher,  secured  employment  in  teaching 
school,  and  at  the  institution  in  which  he  was  so  occupied  the 
boy  became  a  regular  attendant.  Later  on,  his  father  in  the 
mean  time  having  engaged  in  the  business  of  wool-manufacture 
— then  a  prominent  one  in  that  locality — Allen  went  to  attend 
the  Chillicothe  High-school,  and  during  the  year  1825  entered 
the  old  Chillicothe  Academy,  which  at  that  time  boasted  of 
a  curriculum  equal  to  that  of  many  modern  "  colleges."  Dur- 
ing this  period  of  his  life  young  Allen  acquired  those  habits  of 
industry  and  close  study  which  have  ever  since  been  character- 
istic of  him.  His  mother,  a  half-sister  of  the  man  who  after- 
ward became  the  great  Governor  Allen,  was  in  many  respects  a 
remarkable  woman.  Following  her  example  and  her  monitions, 
and  with  her  consent,  the  boy,  even  then  hardly  in  his  teens, 
was  accustomed  to  sit  up  until  very  late  at  night  studying  or 
reciting  his  lessons  to  her.  He  advanced  rapidly  at  school, 
and  soon  became  so  absorbed  and  proficient  in  mathematics 
that  his  schoolmates  gave  him  the  familiar  name  of  "  Right- 
angled-triangle  Thurman."  The  lad's  mathematical  turn  of 
mind,  however,  did  not  prevent  him  from  harboring  those  lit- 
tle tendencies  to  romance  which  from  time  immemorial  have 
been  incident  to  those  of  his  age. 

At  about  the  time  in  question — that  is,  in  1824 — there  came 
into  his  life  an  incident  which  may,  unconsciously  enough,  have 
done  much  to  form  his  character,  and  which  certainly  was  the 
means  of  his  acquiring  an  accomplishment  which  in  recent 
years  has  been  the  medium  of  considerably  advancing  his  inter- 
ests and  his  standing  among  prominent  men. 

In  the  year  indicated  there  came  to  Chillicothe  an  erratic 


"The  Senator  from  Ohio"  335 

though  highly  accomplished  French  emigrant,  who  subsequent- 
ly became  known  as  Professor  Gregoire.  This  gentleman  was 
intended  originally  for  a  priest  of  the  Catholic  Church,  and 
had  at  one  time  begun  his  studies  for  holy  orders,  when  sud- 
denly he  fell  desperately  in  love  with  a  young  girl  not  alto- 
gether his  equal  in  social  standing.  Against  the  entreaties  of 
his  friends,  he  subsequently  abandoned  all  thoughts  of  the 
priesthood,  married  the  young  woman,  and,  with  the  consid- 
erable means  which  were  his,  bought,  upon  the  representations 
of  American  agents  then  in  Paris,  a  large  tract  of  land  in  West- 
ern Virginia.  Upon  this  domain  it  was  his  intention  to  estab- 
lish a  home  which,  according  to  his  own  poetic  fancy,  was  to 
be  little  short  of  an  Elysium.  His  fond  anticipations  were 
not  destined  to  be  realized.  His  young  wife  gave  birth  to 
a  daughter,  fell  sick,  and  died.  Taking  his  child,  and  over- 
whelmed with  grief,  Gregoire  emigrated  to  America.  He 
named  his  little  one  Virginie,  partly  in  commemoration  of 
his  twenty-thousand-dollar  purchase  in  the  New  World,  and 
arrived  in  this  country,  only  to  find  that  the  estate  from  which 
he  had  expected  so  much  was  a  wilderness,  remote  from  any 
habitation,  consisting  mainly  of  stony  mountain-land,  and  ut- 
terly worthless  for  the  purposes  to  which  he  had  intended  to 
put  it.  Under  the  weight  of  his  affliction  Gregoire  for  a  time 
wandered  about  the  borders  of  the  West,  till  at  last  he  found 
his  way  to  Chillicothe.  There — the  settlement  being,  for  those 
days,  an  unusually  pretentious  one,  and  inhabited  by  many 
people  of  culture — he  found  employment  as  a  teacher  of  the 
French  language. 

Mrs.  Thurman,  Allen's  mother,  hearing  of  his  ability  in  this 
direction,  and  deeply  sympathizing  with  him  in  his  double  mis- 
fortune, took  little  Virginie  into  her  house  to  live,  with  the  un- 
derstanding that,  in  return  for  her  maintenance  and  the  compas- 
sionate care  which  should  be  taken  of  her,  Gregoire  would  give 
French  lessons  to  young  Allen.     The  luckless  Parisian  was  so 


336  Twelve  Americans. 

grateful  for  this  kindness  that  he  devoted  particular  attention 
to  his  young  pupil,  and  thoroughly  grounded  him  in  the  French 
grammar.  Of  far  greater  assistance  to  the  lad,  however,  was 
little  Virginie.  The  two  children,  warm-hearted  and  thorough- 
ly sympathetic,  besides  being  without  other  playmates,  soon 
formed  a  most  earnest  attachment  for  each  other.  Virginie 
could  not  speak  a  word  of  English,  Allen  scarcely  a  word  of 
French.  Still,  they  soon  became  able,  in  some  intuitive  and 
mysterious  way,  to  understand  and  interest  one  another,  and 
ultimately  the  association  resulted  in  the  perfect  acquirement 
of  French  by  the  boy. 

Something  else,  too,  he  learned  from  the  Gregoire  family. 
From  the  professor  he  acquired  not  only  French  verbs  but  the 
habit  of  taking  snuff,  which  has  been  one  of  his  distinguishing 
habits  in  later  life.  The  Parisian,  a  most  exemplary  man  in 
every  other  respect,  was  an  inveterate  snuff-taker,  and,  either 
from  politeness  or  caprice,  made  it  his  invariable  custom  when 
he  sat  down  to  a  lesson  with  young  Allen  to  hand  the  child 
the  box  and  ask  him  to  "  take  a  pinch."  The  boy,  precocious 
for  his  years,  soon  took  delight  in  replying,  "Me?ri,  monsieur, 
faccepte  avec  grande  plctistr!"  and  so,  little  by  little,  he  came 
to  be  almost  as  fond  of  snuff  as  was  his  tutor. 

But  the  French  lessons,  the  boyish  love-making  with  Vir- 
ginie, and  the  snuff-taking  were  shortly  to  be  broken  up.  M. 
Gregoire  received  a  favorable  offer  to  go  to  Louisiana,  and, 
much  to  the  regret  of  the  young  people,  he  accepted  the  posi- 
tion and  left  Chillicothe,  taking  his  little  Virginie  with  him. 

For  weeks  Allen  was  disconsolate,  but,  opportunely,  about 
this  time  young  William  Allen,  his  half-uncle,  after  many  ad- 
ventures in  the  Virginia  mountains,  reached  Chillicothe.  His 
coming  proved  not  only  a  distraction  for  the  young  nephew, 
but  was  an  incentive  to  renewed  study;  and  when  he  was  seven- 
teen years  of  age  the  boy — very  tall  for  his  years,  but  pale,  thin, 
and  not  strong — graduated  from  the  Academy  with  high  honors 


"The  Senator  from  Ohio."  337 

in  a  large  class.  At  this  period  of  his  life  it  was  a  question 
whether  or  not  young  Thurman  had  not  been  mentally  culti- 
vated at  the  expense  of  his  physical  strength.  His  mother, 
careful  beyond  measure  in  regard  to  his  intellectual  attain- 
ments, and  loving  him  with  that  great  love  which  only  a  moth- 
er can  have  for  a  favorite  and  promising  son,  seems,  neverthe- 
less, to  have  given  but  little  attention  to  his  bodily  health  and 
development.  That,  however,  soon  after  his  graduation  he  was 
destined  to  acquire  in  another  direction.  Dr.  James  Webb,  a 
successful  medical  practitioner,  the  father  of  Mrs.  Rutherford 
B.  Hayes,  was  then  a  resident  of  Chillicothe.  He  took  great 
interest  in  young  Thurman,  and,  being  a  devoted  hunter,  was 
always  glad  when  the  boy  would  accompany  him  on  his  expe- 
ditions in  quest  of  game.  These  were  made  on  the  back  of 
a  thorough-bred  Kentucky  mare,  of  which  the  doctor  was  very 
proud ;  and,  boasting  that  his  animal  was  always  good  for  a 
double  load,  it  was  frequently  his  custom,  when  meeting  the 
youth  on  the  road,  to  cry  out, 

"  Jump  up  behind  me,  Allen ;  jump  up,  and  we'll  go  for  a 
ride,  to  stir  up  a  deer-pack  or  some  birds." 

The  boy  always  readily  responded  to  these  invitations,  and 
the  taste  for  hunting  which  he  so  acquired,  and  the  exercise 
obtained  during  these  frequent  rides  on  the  doctor's  famous 
mare,  he  has  since  believed  to  be  the  origination  of  his  sub- 
sequent good  health  and  strength.  It  may  be  mentioned  in 
passing  that  Dr.  Webb,  later  in  life,  fell  a  victim  to  his  own 
philanthropy  and  goodness  of  heart.  He  was  a  native  of  Ken- 
tucky, and  when  the  cholera  broke  out  in  1833  in  that  State 
he  at  once  went  to  Louisville  and  offered  his  services  as  a  phy- 
sician. They  were  gladly  accepted.  The  doctor  worked  with 
great  zeal  for  a  time,  but  soon  fell  sick  of  the  disease  whose 
ravages  he  was  laboring  to  check,  and  died,  deeply  mourned 
by  a  large  circle  of  friends. 

The  taste  and  capacity  for  field  pastimes  which  Allen  had 

15 


338  Twelve  Americans. 

acquired  from  him  clung  to  the  boy  ever  afterward.  In  those 
days  the  country  south  of  Chillicothe  was  wild  in  the  extreme. 
Many  of  the  rich  farmers  and  land-owners  in  the  neighborhood 
kept  their  own  packs  of  deer-hounds,  and  deer-hunts  were  of 
very  frequent  occurrence.  Having  in  the  mean  time  secured  a 
horse  of  his  own,  young  Allen  often  joined  in  the  sport,  and 
for  days,  at  certain  seasons,  was  almost  constantly  in  the  sad- 
dle. The  order  of  the  hunt  was,  that  the  party  engaged  in  it 
should  assemble  before  daybreak  and  start  up  the  deer;  then 
the  hunters  separated,  one  company  going  to  the  water,  which 
the  pursued  game  were  sure  to  take  to,  and  the  other  company 
chasing  them  on  horseback  over  the  country.  Sometimes  a 
hunt  lasted  all  day.  Young  Thurman,  who  had  become  a  skil- 
ful and  accomplished  horseman,  was  always  in  the  front  of  the 
chase,  and  his  participation  in  it  resulted  in  giving  him  much 
needed  strength  and  muscle.  Still  he  was  far  from  bein^  a 
robust  boy,  and  he  continued  so  pale  and  thin  as  to  be  a  sub- 
ject of  solicitous  remark  among  his  friends. 

One  day,  on  the  street  in  Chillicothe,  he  met  the  Tax  As- 
sessor of  the  county,  who  was  an  old  friend  of  his  family.  He 
remarked, 

"  Why,  Allen,  my  boy,  you  are  not  looking  well." 

"  No,"  was  the  lad's  reply,  "  I  am  not  as  strong  as  I  would 
like  to  be."  To  which  the  Assessor,  after  a  moment's  thought, 
added, 

"  Let  me  make  a  proposition  to  you.  I  want  an  assistant  to 
make  the  tax -lists  of  personal  property  in  the  county.  I'll 
give  you  a  dollar  a  day  if  you'll  ride  around  and  help  me  with 
the  lists." 

"  I'll  do  it !"  replied  the  boy,  eagerly. 

The  bargain  was  made,  and  during  fifty-one.  days  Allen  Avas 
engaged  in  riding  about  making  the  tax-lists.  At  the  end  of 
that  time  he  was  paid  $51  in  silver  half-dollars  —  the  first 
money  he  ever  earned.     The  physical  benefit  acquired  in  those 


"The  Senator  from  Ohio."  339 

days,  however,  was  of  infinitely  greater  value  to  him  than  were 
the  dollars.  Pie  almost  entirely  recovered  from  the  weak- 
ness which  troubled  him,  and  shortly  afterward  was  so  much 
improved  in  health  that  he  was  able  to  take  part  in  a  land-sur- 
vey, which  at  times  kept  him  for  three  or  four  weeks  in  the 
depths  of  the  Ohio  forests,  where,  "camping  out"  and  living 
the  rough  life  of  a  frontiersman,  he  ultimately  laid  the  founda- 
tion of  that  great  physical  strength  which  in  later  life  made  it 
possible  for  him  to  withstand  the  trying  political  campaigns 
and  laborious  public  work  in  which  he  has  been  engaged. 

II. 

COMMENCING  TO  SEE  THE  WORLD. 

During  these  surveying  tours  he  also  became  familiar  with 
the  country  about  Chillicothe  and  the  relative  value  of  various 
sections.  Believing  that  such  knowledge  would  become  valu- 
able to  him,  many  of  his  friends  advised  him  to  enter  into  the 
land  agency  business,  by  pursuing  which  it  was  not  doubted  that 
he  could  amass  a  considerable  fortune.  His  mother,  however, 
and  his  uncle,  William  Allen — who  in  the  mean  time  had  begun 
to  make  his  mark  in  the  State — insisted  that  he  should  com- 
mence the  study  of  law,  and  he  at  last  yielded  to  their  wishes. 
As  a  result  of  this  arrangement,  he  entered  the  law-office  of  his 
uncle,  and  remained  with  him  three  years.  At  the  end  of  that 
time,  when  he  was  twenty-one  years  old,  and  the  famous  Gov- 
ernor Lucas  was  chief  magistrate  of  Ohio,  that  gentleman  wrote 
to  him  from  Columbus,  asking  him  to  accept  the  position  of 
private  secretary  to  the  Governor.  The  opportunity  to  see 
more  of  life,  and  get  a  better  understanding  of  politics  and 
the  politicians  of  the  time,  was  too  good  a  one  to  be  lost;  and, 
with  the  concurrence  of  his  friends,  he  at  once  accepted  the 
position  and  went  to  the  capital.  Arrived  there,  he  imme- 
diately assumed  the   duties   of   the   secretaryship,  and  at  the 


34-0  Twelve  Americans. 

same  time  entered  the  law-office  of  the  distinguished  Judge 
Sway  no. 

Business  in  the  Executive  Chamber  was  conducted  in  those 
days  after  a  fashion  very  different  from  the  methods  of  to-day. 
Governor  Lucas  was  in  his  office  at  eight  o'clock  every  morning, 
and  expected  his  secretary  at  the  same  hour.  There  they  re- 
mained until  eight  o'clock  at  night,  being  engaged  during  most 
of  the  time  in  performing  the  duties  which  in  these  later  and 
more  affluent  days  of  progress  require  the  services  of  numerous 
clerks.  Still,  despite  the  hard  labor  he  was  in  this  way  com- 
pelled to  perform,  the  young  man  found  time  at  night  to  read 
law,  and  to  work  out  legal  problems  submitted  to  him  "from 
time  to  time  by  Judge  Swayne.  Indeed,  he  seems  at  this  pe- 
riod of  his  life  to  have  found  time  for  everything  except  to 
sleep,  as  four  or  five  hours  in  bed  out  of  the  daily  twenty- 
four  were  all  that  he  allowed  himself. 

About  this  time  it  was  that  the  then  famous  but  now  almost 
forgotten  dispute  arose  in  regard  to  the  Michigan  Boundary 
Question.  Michigan  claimed  that  the  line  should  be  drawn  so 
far  south  as  to  include  within  her  territory  what  was  then  and 
is  now  the  Ohio  city  of  Toledo,  and  the  mouth  of  the  Miami 
Iliver.  The  authorities  of  Ohio  disputed  the  claim,  and  for  a 
time  a  veritable  conflict  between  the  two  States  was  threat- 
ened. Governor  Lucas,  a  man  of  fine  natural  abilities  but  of 
little  education,  had  figured  in  the  war  of  1812,  and  stubborn- 
ly held  it  to  be  his  duty  to  go  out  with  the  Ohio  Commission- 
ers to  settle  the  dispute.  In  doing  so  he  narrowly  escaped 
being  made  a  prisoner  with  the  Commissioners,  who  were  capt- 
ured by  the  Michigan  general,  Brown,  on  the  ground  that  they 
were  trespassers.  The  incident  gave  rise  to  a  well-known 
couplet  of  the  pei'iod,  beginning  with  the  line — 

"  General  Brown  like  a  wolf  came  down." 
Subsequently  the  dispute  was  amicably  settled  by  Governor 


"The  Senator  from  Ohio"  341 

Allen,  Judge  Swayne,  and  D.  T.  Disney,  who  went  to  Washing- 
ton, and  succeeded,  by  the  aid  of  the  general  Government,  in 
fixing  the  boundary  as  it  exists  to-day. 

Not  long  after  this  episode  young  Thurman  left  the  office  of 
Governor  Lucas,  and  proceeded  to  Washington,  the  county-seat 
of  Fayette  County,  to  be  examined  for  admission  to  the  Bar. 
The  examination  of  candidates  was  conducted  by  a  committee 
of  lawyers  appointed  by  the  court.  Young  Thurman  was  ac- 
companied by  an  acquaintance ;  and,  after  consultation,  the 
Chairman  of  the  Examining  Board  said  to  them, 

"  Gentlemen,  we  have  decided  to  allow  Mr.  Thurman  to 
question  the  other  candidate,  Mr. .  Thus  the  examina- 
tion of  both  candidates  by  us  will  proceed  at  the  same  time." 

This  arrangement  hardly  suited  young  Thurman,  for  he  knew 
that  his  associate  had  but  vague  and  fleeting  ideas  of  even  the 
rudiments  of  legal  study.  This  proved  to  be  the  case.  He 
put  to  him  the  simplest  questions,  only  to  receive  the  most 
ridiculously  inaccurate  answers.  This  continued,  until  at  last 
the  committee  sent  the  unfortunate  young  man  from  the  room, 
and  themselves  examined  Thurman.  With  a  single  exception 
he  answered  all  their  questions,  many  of  them  very  difficult 
ones,  promptly  and  satisfactorily.  His  only  failure  was  in  re- 
gard to  a  point  touching  the  law  of  evidence.  When  his  own 
ordeal  was  thus  successfully  passed,  and  he  was  assured  of  his 
certificate,  Thurman  began  to  plead  for  his  less  successful  col- 
league. After  some  discussion  the  examiners  sent  for  the 
young  man,  and  the  Chairman,  with  due  gravity,  delivered,  in 
substance,  the  following  truly  remarkable  speech : 

"Sir,  we  admit  you,  as  we  have  already  admitted  Mr.  Thurmau,  but  for 
very  different  reasons.  We  recognize  his  right  and  ability  to  practise, 
because  of  his  clear  and  good  knowledge  of  the  law.  We  will  admit  you 
as  a  matter  of  grace — not  because  you  know  anything  about  the  profession 
you  aspire  to.  We  do  this  with  the  understanding  that  you  pledge  us  your 
word  of  honor  that  you  will  not  attempt  to  practise  until  you  learn  some- 
thing of  questions  in  regard  to  which  you  now  know  next  to  nothing." 


342  Twelve  Americans. 

This  exceedingly  easy-going  examining  board  of  the  olden 
time,  it  may  be  remarked,  was  never  called  to  account  for 
the  lax  method  which  it  followed.  Farther,  it  may  also  be 
stated  that  the  young  man  admitted  in  the  manner  described 
had  sense  enough  to  know  eventually  that  he  was  not  fitted 
for  the  law,  and  not  only  never  practised,  but  ever  afterward 
avoided  courts  and  lawyers,  confining  himself  to  less  difficult 
if  not  more  profitable  walks  of  business. 

After  being  admitted  to  the  Bar  in  the  somewhat  novel  fash- 
ion described  young  Thurman  went  at  once  to  Chillicothe ;  and, 
being  most  fortunate  in  his  connections,  was  not  obliged  to 
wait  for  business ;  on  the  contrary,  he  was  immediately  ad- 
mitted into  partnership  with  his  uncle,  William  Allen,  who  in 
the  mean  time  had  made  himself  a  prominent  figure  not  only 
in  State  but  national  affairs.  By  this  association  he  at  once 
found  himself  in  possession  of  one  of  the  best  legal  practices 
in  Ohio. 

The  first  case  tried  by  the  young  lawyer  was  in  some  re- 
spects a  remarkable  one.  It  was  a  suit  brought  in  Jackson 
County  by  an  odd  old  Massachusetts  Yankee,  named  Wilber, 
against  one  Nelson,  a  well-known  warehouseman  of  the  time. 
With  the  latter  Wilber  had  stored  a  quantity  of  pork.  This 
had  been  destroyed  by  the  burning  of  Nelson's  warehouse,  and 
the  plaintiff  sued  to  recover  the  value  of  his  property.  As  it 
happened,  Wilber  employed  as  his  lawyer  William  S.  Murphy,  a 
"  bolting  "  Democrat,  who  had  run  as  an  Independent  for  Con- 
gress in  the  famous  contest  which  resulted  in  the  election— by  a 
majority  of  one  only — of  William  Allen  over  the  Whig  candidate, 
Judge  M'Arthur.  Wilber  had  been  one  of  Allen's  most  enthu- 
siastic supporters,  and  to  his  dying  day  he  proudly  boasted  that 
his  was  the  one  vote  which  elected  the  sturdy  old  Democrat  to 
his  first  Congressional  term.  As  young  Thurman  was  riding  out 
of  Chillicothe  to  attend  his  maiden  court  Murphy  hailed  him, 
and,  detailing  these  circumstances,  said  that  he  was  not  able  to 


"  The  Senator  from,  Ohio.'1''  343 

leave  town  that  day,  and  begged  that  the  case  be  taken  off  his 
hands. 

"  But,"  said  the  young  lawyer,  "  I  know  nothing  about  the 
case,  and  could  not  do  either  myself  or  your  client  justice." 

"Oh,  that's  all  provided  for,"  Murphy  replied.  "I  have 
fully  prepared  the  brief,  and  here  it  is ;  all  you  will  have  to 
do  will  be  to  present  it." 

To  this  extent  Thurraan  agreed  to  take  charge  of  the  case, 
and  rode  on.  So  riding,  when  he  was  fairly  outside  the  limits 
of  the  town  he  read  Murphy's  brief,  and  was  not  a  little  sur- 
prised to  see  that  he  had  brought  the  wrong  form  of  action  in 
the  suit  against  Nelson.  This  information,  together  with  the 
fact  that  the  case  had  been  assigned  to  him  as  described,  he 
gave  Mr.  Wilber  immediately  upon  his  arrival  at  the  Court- 
house.    At  the  same  time  he  said, 

"Under  the  circumstances,  Mr.  Wilber,  I  am  sure  that  it 
would  be  best  for  you  to  intrust  your  case  and  Mr.  Murphy's 
brief  to  some  older  and  more  experienced  lawyer." 

"  No,  no !"  replied  the  client.     "  You  are  not  your  uncle's 

nephew  if  you  can't  do  as  well  as  any  of  them.     That 

Murphy  brought  the  wrong  form  of  action,  as  you  call  it,  to 
punish  me  for  voting  for  'Bill'  Allen — giving  him  the  one  vote 
that  elected  him.  I  am  sure  of  that.  Still,  we  must  now  go  on 
Avith  the  case,  as  we  have  commenced,  I  suppose,  and  you  shall 
conduct  it.  If  you  lose,  no  one  shall  be  blamed  but  Murphy — 
that  I  promise  you." 

Upon  these  conditions  Thurman  consented  to  do  what  he 
could.  As  he  expected,  however,  Wilber  was  nonsuited ;  and 
the  young  lawyer,  though  he  gained  a  firm  friend,  and  later  in 
life  a  very  profitable  client,  in  Wilber,  lost  his  first  law-case. 

But  this  first  case,  which  was  so  lost,  was  in  no  way  indica- 
tive of  the  results  which  were  to  attend  the  young  lawyer's 
future  efforts.  On  the  contrary,  he  was  from  the  commence- 
ment most  successful  in  his  practice.     Shortly  after  he  had  en- 


344  Twelve  Americans. 

tered  upon  it  his  uncle  and  partner  became  so  entirely  absorbed 
in  politics  that  he  abandoned  his  profession  entirely,  and  left 
the  work  of  the  office  to  be  done  by  Thurrnan.  The  young 
man  who  was  thus  suddenly  called  on  to  assume  great  re- 
sponsibility acquitted  himself  remarkably,  winning  the  warm- 
est approbation  from  distinguished  men  in  his  own  profession 
and  out  of  it.  His  circuit  embraced  four  counties,  and  it  is 
noteworthy  that  during  ten  years  in  no  one  of  them  did  he 
ever  miss  a  term  of  court,  and  during  all  that  time  it  is  still 
farther  remarkable  that  he  did  not  ride  one  hundred  miles  on 
wheels.  All  his  journeys,  like  those  of  his  fellow-practition- 
ers, were  made  on  horseback  over  the  "  dirt  roads,"  which 
were  then  the  only  means  of  travel  in  that  portion  of  the 
country.  Among  those  who  practised  with  Thurman  at  that 
time  were  William  Creighton,  Judge  Scott,  Benjamin  F.  Leon- 
ard (who  afterward  died  in  an  insane  asylum),  Henry  Stan- 
berry,  and  others,  who  were  then,  or  afterward  became,  well 
known  throughout  the  nation.  Of  this  great  Bar,  Thurman 
was  the  youngest  member,  yet  it  is  no  exaggeration  to  say  that 
he  held  his  own  with  the  best  of  his  associates.  To  do  this, 
however,  he  was  obliged  to  work  indefatigably ;  and  it  is  known 
that  during  all  this  period  of  his  life  he  rarely  slept  more  than 
six  hours  a  day,  all  the  remaining  hours  of  the  twenty-four 
being  devoted  to  office  work,  court  practice,  or  home  study. 

Becoming  thus  early  prominent  at  the  Bar,  it  was  only  nat- 
ural that  he  should  be  regarded  as  a  fit  subject  for  political 
honors.  From  his  early  boyhood  he  had  taken  interest  in 
public  affairs.  Later  on  he  always  did  his  full  political  duty, 
and  took  a  prominent  part  in  the  canvasses  of  his  county,  but 
always  in  favor  of  persons  other  than  himself.  Two  or  three 
times  he  was  solicited  to  be  a  candidate  for  the  Legislature, 
and  each  time  refused,  as  he  did  also  a  proposition  which  was 
made  to  him  to  accept  a  nomination  for  a  judicial  position. 
He  declared,  very  wisely,  that  he  could  not  afford  to  run  for 


"The  Senator  from  Ohio.'''  345 

office,  and  that  lie  believed  no  poor  man  should  accept  honors 
which  he  had  not  the  means  adequately  to  support.  Holding 
these  views,  he  continued  to  practise  his  profession  with  almost 
unvarying  success  before  the  courts,  but  with  only  moderate 
success  financially.  Still,  he  worked  on  untiringly.  So  hard 
did  he  labor,  in  fact,  that  in  1839  he  found  his  health  seri- 
ously impaired,  and  rest  and  recreation  became  an  imperative 
necessity.  By  the  advice, of  his  friends,  and  particularly  of  his 
uncle,  who  by  this  time  was  one  of  the  great  men  at  Washing- 
ton, he  decided  to  take  a  trip  to  that  city.  The  journey  was 
made  in  a  rickety  old  stage-coach  from  Chillicothe  to  Freder- 
ick City,  Maryland,  and  from  that  point  by  means  of  the  then 
new  and  decidedly  primitive  flat -railed  road  to  the  national 
capital.     The  trip  occupied  several  days. 

III. 
A   MEMORABLE  VISIT. 

Arriving  in  Washington,  Mr.  Thurman  found  the  city  little 
more,  in  appearance  and  condition,  than  a  straggling  village  of 
not  very  substantial  houses,  which  were  dwarfed  and  made  all 
the  more  unsightly  by  the  towering  public  edifices  which  loom- 
ed up  in  odd  contrast.  What  is  now  the  heart  of  Washington 
was  then  a  skating-pond,  and  prowling  pigs  and  little  slave- 
boys  disported  themselves  freely  in  portions  of  the  capital 
which  are  now  the  most  fashionable  and  closely  built. 

It  was  during  this  visit  that  William  Allen  took  the  young 
lawyer  to  see  the  great  Senator,  Calhoun,  for  whom  he  had 
always  cherished  the  liveliest  admiration.  Entering  the  apart- 
ment of  the  latter  one  morning,  the  uncle  and  nephew  found 
the  distinguished  statesman  disengaged.  As  they  entered  he 
rose  slowly  to  greet  them,  and  the  young  man  observed  that 
the  Senator's  figure  was  tall,  and,  though  slight  almost  to  sparc- 
ness,  yet  exceedingly  well-formed  and  graceful.     Later  in  life, 

15* 


346  Twelve  Americans. 

as  it  is  almost  unnecessary  to  state,  a  slight  stoop  to  a  certain 
extent  deformed  him ;  but  at  the  time  in  question  he  stood 
almost  erect,  and  his  fine,  strong,  earnest  face  and  dark,  deep, 
luminous  eyes  are  even  to  this  day  vividly  remembered  by  the 
man  who  then  visited  him,  with  no  idea  that  he  was  himself 
destined  to  be,  in  later  years,  a  foremost  Senator  of  the 
Union.  lie  was,  in  fact,  at  that  time  fully  impressed  with 
the  truth  of  Mr.  Webster's  remark,  who,  on  a  certain  occa- 
sion, in  debating  with  Senator  Calhoun,  said  of  him,  "The 
Senator  from  South  Carolina  speaks  as  though  he  had  con- 
versed face  to  face  familiarly  with  Truth  and  learned  all  her 
secrets." 

As  Senator  Allen  and  Mr.  Thurman  entered  Calhoun's  cham- 
ber, on  that  morning  long  ago,  the  famed  South  Carolinian, 
with  quiet  dignity  but  none  the  less  warmth,  extended  his 
hand  at  once  to  the  young  man,  and  invited  him  to  be  seated. 
At  the  same  time,  paying  little  or  no  attention  to  Mr.  Allen, 
he  turned  to  Thurman  and  said  to  him,  good-humoredly, 

"  I  understand  that  it  is  not  long,  sir,  since  you  have  fin- 
ished your  studies." 

"  No,  sir,"  replied  Thurman,  "  it  is  not  so  long  ago  that  I 
can  claim  to  have  more  than  just  begun  my  career." 

"Well,  then,"  quickly  and  abruptly  rejoined  Calhoun,  "I  do 
sincerely  hope  that  you  have  not  neglected  the  study  of  the 
history  of  the  Greek  Republic." 

Then,  without  giving  his  visitor  time  to  make  a  reply,  he 
went  on  for  nearly  half  an  hour  in  the  most  eloquent,  yet  at 
the  same  time  rather  dogmatic,  fashion — in  later  years  most 
characteristic  of  ex-Senator  Conkling — to  descant  upon  ancient 
history  and  the  part  in  it  which  was  played  by  the  republics  of 
Greece.  His  great  flow  of  language  and  wonderfully  rounded 
sentences,  together  with  his  cordiality  of  manner,  completely 
won  the  heart  of  young  Thurman,  and  after  they  had  left  Cal- 
houn he  expressed  his  feeling  to  his  uncle.     At  the  same  time 


"The  Senator  from  Ohio.''-  347 

he  was  just  lawyer  enough  to  be  a  little  suspicious,  and  asked 
Allen, 

"  Is  Mr.  Calhoun  always  as  considerate  to  young  and  un- 
known men  as  he  has  been  to  me  ?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Allen,  laughing.  "  It  is  one  of  the  peculiari- 
ties of  our  great  Senator  from  Carolina  that  he  always  catches 
the  attention  of  the  rising  generation.  Like  him  as  much  as 
you  please,  but  don't  let  yourself  be  deceived  into  the  belief 
that  he  has  treated  you  with  exclusive  or  more  than  his  ordi- 
dinary  courtesy." 

During  this  his  first  visit  to  Washington  Mr.  Thurman 
spent  six  weeks  at  the  capital,  forming  agreeable  acquaintance- 
ships with  many  of  the  prominent  men  of  the  time.  Then  he 
went  back  to  Chillicothe  and  to  his  law-practice.  He  did  not 
return  to  Washington  until  1842,  when  he  came  to  attend  the 
Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States  professionally,  afterward 
making  a  trip  through  the  Southern  States. 

Two  years  later,  while  he  was  in  Kentucky  on  legal  busi- 
ness, the  Democratic  Convention  of  the  Congressional  district 
in  which  he  lived,  without  his  knowledge  and  entirely  without 
his  solicitation,  nominated  him  for  Congress.  Returning  to 
Chillicothe,  and  learning  for  the  first  time  what  had  been  done, 
he  was,  for  reasons  already  explained,  on  the  point  of  declining 
to  serve.  From  this  intention  he  was  dissuaded,  andr  having 
accepted  the  nomination,  he  entered  with  all  energy  into  the 
contest.  He  made  a  close  canvass  of  the  whole  district,  spoke 
everywhere,  often  taking  part  in  joint  discussions  against  his 
Whig  opponent,  John  J.  Van  Meter,  and  yet,  strange  to  say, 
never  exchanged  one  unkind  or  disrespectful  word  with  him 
or  any  other  opponent.  The  result  of  his  canvass  was  his  tri- 
umphant election.  Of  his  services  during  the  term  of  Con- 
gress which  followed  it  need  only  be  said  that  he  at  once  took 
high  rank  on  the  Judiciary  Committee,  and  made  able  speeches 
on  the  Oregon  Question  and  the  Mexican  troubles. 


348  Twelve  Americans. 

Incidentally  it  may  be  of  interest  to  state  that  during  this 
first  service  in  Congress  Mr.  Thurman  resumed  the  practice  of 
snuff-taking,  which  he  originally  acquired,  with  the  rudiments 
of  French,  from  old  Professor  Gregoire,  and  which  has  ever 
since  clung  to  him — making  use,  by -the -way,  of  the  famous 
bandanna  handkerchief  which  in  later  years  was  recognized  as 
the  battle-flag  of  the  Democracy  in  the  national  Senate. 

At  the  time  in  question — that  is,  when  Mr.  Thurman  first 
went  to  Congress — very  many  of  his  associates  were  inveterate 
snuff-takers.  To  provide  for  their  wants  in  this  direction  the 
Sergeant-at-arras  of  the  House  was  charged  with  the  duty  of 
regularly  filling  two  huge  boxes,  which  stood  on  either  side 
of  the  Clerk's  desk,  with  a  fine  brand  of  the  pungent  powder. 
This  was  known  as  "  Congressional  snuff,"  and  was  paid  for 
by  the  Government. 

The  rule  did  not  hold  good  in  the  Senate.  The  members 
of  that  body  who  took  snuff  were  obliged  either  to  buy  it 
themselves  or  to  obtain  it  as  a  favor  from  some  of  the  attend- 
ants, as  they  have  since  done  from  that  patriarch  of  Congres- 
sional officers,  Captain  Bassett.  In  passing  it  may  also  be 
mentioned  that  at  this  time — during  Mr.  Thurman's  first  visit 
to  Washington  and  his  subsequent  service  in  Congress — it  was 
the  fashion  for  Senators  and  other  high  Government  officials 
to  appear  in  full-dress  suits  of  either  black,  brown,  blue,  or 
bottle-green,  with  either  black  or  brass  buttons.  Senator  Web- 
ster's favorite  color  was  brown,  while  Preston,  of  South  Caro- 
lina, usually  wore  a  conspicuous  suit  of  green.  They  were 
handsome  old  fellows,  these  Senators  of  the  days  gone  by. 
Fully  one-third  of  them,  as  Mr.  Thurman  and  others  remem- 
ber, were  six  feet  and  over  in  height. 

With  most  of  these  gentlemen  Mr.  Thurman  enjoyed  the 
most  agreeable  relations,  and  there  is  no  doubt  that,  had  he 
remained  in  Washington,  he  would,  in  every  sense  of  the  term, 
have  become  "  one  of  them."     He  refused  to  continue  in  Con- 


^The  Senator  from  Ohio."  349 

gress,  not  so  much  because  of  a  disinclination  for  public  service 
as  because  be  could  not  properly  support  himself  and  bis  fami- 
ly on  tbe  small  allowance  tben  made  to  Congressmen  by  the 
Government.  For  these  reasons  he  declined  a  renomination, 
which  be  could  have  bad,  without  effort  on  bis  part,  and  went 
back  to  the  practice  of  bis  profession. 

IV. 

NATIONAL   FAME. 

This  work  Mr.  Thurman  continued  until  be  was  elected — of 
course  on  tbe  Democratic  ticket — to  the  Supreme  Court  of 
Ohio.  He  remained  for  four  years  on  the  Bench,  for  the  last 
two  years  of  his  terra  being  the  Chief-Justice.  During  this 
time  he  rendered  many  opinions  which  are  now  cited  as  of 
undoubted  authority  and  not  to  be  questioned.  Among  these 
may  be  mentioned,  as  familiar  to  all  lawyers,  bis  famous  opin- 
ion in  the  cases  of  Cross  against  Dillon  and  Bloom  against 
Richard. 

Still,  and  despite  bis  great  success  as  a  Judge,  be  declined  a 
re-election,  bis  reason  again  being  that  the  salary  was  too  small 
to  support  him,  and  because  while  holding  official  position  he 
never  allowed  himself  to  increase  his  income  by  any  practice 
or '  enterprise  of  a  private  character.  Going  back  to  practice 
after  his  four  years  on  the  Bench,  be  found  his  reputation  to 
have  increased  so  rapidly  that  his  business  was  almost  greater 
than  he  could  attend  to.  Fortunately,  his  receipts  were  in 
keeping  with  the  extent  of  bis  work,  and  in  time  he  amass- 
ed a  competence.  Encouraged  by  these  results,  he  continued 
witb  tbe  utmost  industry  to  practise  his  profession  until  1867, 
when,  almost  without  a  struggle  worthy  of  the  name,  be  re- 
ceived the  unanimous  nomination  of  the  Democratic  Conven- 
tion to  be  Governor  of  Ohio.  Ex-President  Hayes  was  his 
opponent,  and  for  sixty-five  successive  days,  in  one  of  the  most 


350  Twelve  Americans. 

exciting  and  closely  contested  campaigns  the  State  had  known, 
both  candidates  appeared  upon  the  "  stump."  Thurman  was 
defeated,  but  had  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  he  cut  down 
the  Republican  majority  from  43,000 — which  it  had  been  the 
year  before — to  less  than  3000.  During  the  campaign  it  was 
frequently  asserted,  and  perhaps  in  some  quarters  believed, 
that  he  had  been  opposed  to  the  war  for  the  Union.  In  re- 
gard to  that  matter  it  need  only  be  said  that  until  war  was 
actually  declared  Mr.  Thurman  was  strongly  opposed  to  it,  and 
used  every  influence  he  had  to  prevent  it.  After  hostilities 
had  actually  commenced,  however,  he  was  quite  as  earnest  in 
urging  that  those  who  were  opposed  to  the  national  Govern- 
ment should  be  defeated  and  put  down  as  speedily  as  possible. 
His  argument  was  simply  that,  if  the  South  had  the  right  to 
leave  the  Union,  then  the  Union  was  at  Avar  with  a  foreign 
power ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  if  the  South  had  no  right  of 
secession,  then  the  war  was  an  insurrection.  In  either  case  he 
held  that  all  the  means  at  the  command  of  the  Federal  Govern- 
ment should  be  employed  to  put  an  end  to  it.  At  the  same 
time,  however  (to  use  his  own  words,  without  attempting  to 
define  exactly  what  they  signify)  he  "  did  not  believe  that  it 
was  necessary  to  violate  the  Constitution  in  order  to  preserve 
the  Union." 

Though  defeated  for  the  Governorship,  as  stated,  the  elec- 
tion was  not  without  results  agreeable  to  Mr.  Thurman.  De- 
spite the  fact  that  Mr.  Hayes  was  successful,  the  Legislature 
elected  with  him  was  Democratic,  and  that  Legislature  lost  no' 
time  in  making  Allen  G.  Thurman  a  United  States  Senator,  to 
take  the  place  which  had  been  occupied  by  that  Republican  of 
Republicans,  sturdy  "  Ben  "  Wade. 

When  he  took  his  seat  there  were  only  seven  Democrats  in 
the  upper  House.  They  were  Messrs.  Garrett  Davis,  M'Creary, 
of  Kentucky  ;  Casserly,  Vickers,  of  Maryland  ;  Bayard,  Stock- 
ton, of  New  Jersey  ;  and  Thurman.    The  latter  soon  took  high 


"The  Senator  from  Ohio"  351 

position  among  his  colleagues,  and  as  early  as  1869  made  a 
speech  on  the  so-called  Georgia  Bill,  which  attracted  general 
attention,  and  was  justly  regarded  as  the  official  announcement 
that  the  Democratic  Party  of  the  South,  for  the  first  time  since 
hefore  the  war,  was  to  fall  into  line  with  the  organization  in 
other  parts  of  the  reunited  nation.  Afterward  his  speeches  on 
the  Geneva  Award  Bill  and  also  on  the  Pacific  Railway  Fund- 
ing Bill  attracted  much  notice  and  applause.  It  is  only  justice 
to  state  that  by  the  passage  of  his  bill  in  regard  to  the  rail- 
roads in  question  the  Government  was  saved  something  like 
$200,000,000.  But  not  only  this ;  by  the  passage  of  that  bill 
there  was  for  all  time  established  the  wholesome  precedent 
which  teaches  that  the  Government  is  the  master  of  corpora- 
tions of  its  own  creating.  If  he  had  never  performed  any  ser- 
vice but  this  Senator  Thurman  would  still  be  entitled  to  the 
unstinted  praise  of  his  countrymen.  But  he  performed  many 
other  services.  He  set  an  example  of  hard  work  in  official  life 
which  many  more  pretentious  men  might  follow  with  advan- 
tage both  to  themselves  and  their  constituents.  It  can  with 
truth  be  said  of  him  that  he  never  on  any  account  neglected 
his  public  duties.  Even  when  looking  for  a  nomination  to  the 
Presidency — which,  as  need  not  here  be  detailed,  he  did  to  no 
purpose — he  was  still  ever  mindful  of  the  work  which  was  ex- 
pected of  him  as  a  Senator.  Of  his  private  life  and  his  rela- 
tions with  his  associates  in  the  Senate  it  can  be  said  that,  dur- 
ing twelve  years  of  service,  he  never  had  an  angry  word  with 
any  of  them. 

With  a  few  of  the  prominent  Republicans  who  were  his  as- 
sociates he  was  always  on  the  most  intimate  personal  terms. 
This  was  particularly  true  in  regard  to  Senator  Edmunds. 
Both  gentlemen  were  members  of  the  Judiciary  Committee, 
and  the  Republican  giant  in  Constitutional  law  was  always,  but 
especially  after  Senator  Thurman's  memorable  services  on  the 
Electoral  Commission,  a  great   admirer   of  his   eminent  legal 


352  Twelve  Americans. 

ability.  This  feeling  was  reciprocated,  and  in  time  ripened 
into  a  warm  personal  friendship,  which  developed  itself  in 
many  odd  ways. 

For  instance,  the  two  Senators  almost  invariably  took  in 
company  that  refreshment  and  "little  stimulant"  which  they 
might  find  necessary  during  a  long  and  tedious  session  of  the 
Senate.  On  such  occasions  their  movements  were  quite  as  ec- 
centric as  they  were  amusing,  and,  by  the  initiated,  well  under- 
stood. When  the  opportunity  presented  itself,  or  the  spirit 
moved,  one  or  the  other  of  them — it  was  sometimes  one  and 
sometimes  the  other — would  slowly  and  solemnly  rise  in  his 
place  and  look  slyly  and  significantly  toward  his  "  brother 
Senator."  Then  the  latter  would  be  seen  to  rise  slowly  and 
solemnly  in  his  place ;  and  then  they  would  go  out  of  the 
Chamber,  always  from  different  doors — always  slowly  and  sol- 
emnly. In  the  same  manner  they  would  go  by  different  stair- 
ways down  to  their  committee-room.  There  they  would  meet, 
enter  together,  and  then,  invariably,  the  door  was  closed  and 
locked  against  the  outside  world.  What  the  great  law-makers 
did  when  inside  could  only  be  surmised,  but  it  was  always 
noticeable  that  when  they  had  been  closeted  for  a  few  mo- 
ments they  returned  to  the  Senate  Chamber  looking  much  re- 
freshed and  invigorated. 

Sometimes  one  returned  before  the  other.  At  such  times,  if 
it  happened  that  a  vote  was  in  progress,  and,  Edmunds  being 
absent,  Thurman's  name  was  called,  that  gentleman,  with  the 
utmost  gravity — though  a  close  observer  might  have  noticed  a 
sly  twinkle  in  his  keen  gray  eye — always  replied, 

"  Upon  this  question,  Mr.  President,  I  am  paired  with  my 
honored  friend  the  Senator  from  Vermont.  If  he  were  pre- 
sent he  would  vote  '  No ' — I  should  vote  '  Yes.'  " 

Exactly  in  the  same  way,  if  the  great  Republican  Senator  was 
the  first  to  enter  the  Chamber,  and  Mr.  Thurman  absent  dur- 
ing roll-call,  the  tall,  straight  form  of  his  friend  would  be  seen 


"The  Senator  from  Ohio."  353 

to  rise  slowly,  and  then  came,  in  deep  tones,  from  clear-cut, 
half-closed,  and  scarcely  moving  lips,  the  words, 

"  Upon  this  question,  Mr.  President,  I  am  paired  with  my 
honored  friend  the  Senator  from  Ohio.  If  he  were  present  he 
would  vote  '  Yes  ' — I  should  vote  '  No.'  " 

Then  slowly  and  always  solemnly  the  Senator  from  Vermont 
would  take  his  seat.  Shortly  after,  when  his  "  honored  friend  " 
the  Senator  from  Ohio  was  again  in  his  place,  and  had  used  his 
historic  bandanna  handkerchief — "  the  standard  of  the  Democ- 
racy " — they  would  exchange  glances  and  go  back  to  work. 

At  such  times  he  was  an  unfortunate  man  who  attempted  to 
contradict  either  of  them  in  regard  to  a  question  of  Constitu- 
tional law. 

Allen  G.  Thurman — his  rugged,  red  face,  portly  form,  clear- 
cut  speeches,  sound  law,  and  grim  humor — is  now  missed  in 
the  United  States  Senate  Chamber.  He  went  out  of  public 
life  as  he  came — a  comparatively  poor  man.  He  went  regret- 
ted by  all  who  knew  him  in  Washington — regretted  particu- 
larly by  many  prominent  Republicans  who  rejoiced  most  heart- 
ily at  President  Garfield's  graceful  and  unsolicited  action  in 
appointing  him  to  the  International  Monetary  Conference, 
upon  which,  it  is  needless  to  state,  he  served  with  credit  and 
distinction.     His  seat*  in  the  Senate  will  not  easily  be  filled. 

*  There  is  a  rule  of  the  Senate  which  provides  that  no  desk  or  chair 
once  used  in  it  shall  ever  be  wilfully  destroyed  or  cast  out.  New  seats 
and  desks  are  added  as  the  number  of  Senators  increases.  Choice  places 
in  the  Chamber  are  awarded  on  the  principle  of  first  come,  first  served.  A 
book  is  kept  for  the  purpose,  and  there  are  sometimes  on  record  as  many 
as  six  applicants  for  one  seat.  Mr.  Thurman's  seat  was  the  fourth  from 
the  centre  aisle,  on  the  right,  and  in  the  third  row,  counting  from  the  Vice- 
President's  chair.  That  place,  on  Mr.  Thurman's  retirement,  was  given, 
under  the  rule,  to  Mr.  Jonas,  of  Louisiana.  To  succeed  Mr.  Thurman 
James  A.  Garfield  was  chosen  by  the  unanimous  vote  of  the  Republican 
majority  in  the  Ohio  Legislature.  By  the  election  of  General  Garfield  to 
the  Presidency  the  chair  became  vacant.  To  fill  it  John  Sherman  was 
chosen.  In  the  Congressional  Directory  he  appears  as  Senator  Thur- 
man's successor. 


354  Twelve  Americans. 

During  Lis  active  political  career  he  was  at  times  a  bitter 
partisan,  and  be  may  bave  gone  astray  on  tbe  money  question ; 
but  even  bis  enemies — if  such  tbere  are — must  admit  that  be 
Avas,  in  every  sense  of  the  term,  an  honest  public  servant,  that 
be  worked  faithfully  in  what  he  believed  to  be  the  right  di- 
rection, and  that  he  did  very  much  to  elevate  the  tone  of 
political  discussion  in  the  United  States. 


A  Lifetime  on  the  Stage. 


JOSEPH  JEFFERSON, 


A  Lifetime  on  the  Stage. 


JOSEPH   JEFFERSON. 


FROM   SIRE   TO   SON. 

Joseph  Jefferson,  who  must  always  be  regarded  as  one  of 
the  greatest  ornaments  of  the  English-speaking  stage,  is  a  de- 
scendant of  actors  scarcely  less  distinguished  than  himself.  His 
great-grandfather,  a  dashing  fellow,  named  Thomas  Jefferson, 
after  riding  from  Ripon,  in  England,  to  the  good  City  of  Lon- 
don in  the  interest  of  the  Jacobite  rebellion  of  1745,  took  him- 
self to  rest  at  the  White  Hart  Inn  of  Southwark  Borough. 
There  he  told  such  comic  stories  and  sang  such  droll  songs  as 
had  seldom  been  heard  before.  His  fame  spread  from  the  tap- 
room to  the  parlor,  where  David  Garrick  was  at  drink  with  a 
party  of  worthies.  The  great  actor  took  a  fancy  to  him,  gave 
him  an  engagement,  and  in  time  he  became  an  excellent  and 
popular  player.  His  son,  the  grandfather  of  our  Jefferson,  was 
Joseph  Jefferson,  who  came  to  this  country  from  England 
toward  the  close  of  the  year  1795.  What  he  was  as  a  man 
and  in  his  profession  has  been  recorded  by  Dnnlap,  in  his 
"  History  of  the  American  Theatre."  Of  him  that  work  says  : 
"  He  was  then  a  youth,  but  even  then  an  artist.  Of  a  small 
and  light  figure,  well  formed,  with  a  singular  physiognomy,  a 
nose  perfectly  Grecian,  and  blue  eyes  full  of  laughter,  he  had 
the  faculty  of  exciting  mirth  to  as  great  a  degree  by  power  of 
feature,  although  handsome,  as  any  ugly-featured  low  comedian 


356  Twelve  Americans. 

ever  seen.  We  shall  often  have  occasion  to  mention  this  ex- 
cellent comedian,  who  lived  among  ns  admired  as  an  actor  and 
esteemed  as  a  man  for  six-and-thirty  years,  paying  the  debt  of 
nature  while  this  work  was  passing  through  the  press  in  1832." 
The  son  of  the  man  who  was  thus  highly  praised  was  also 
named  Joseph  Jefferson.  He  was  born  in  this  country,  and  for 
a  long  time  was  identified  with  theatres  and  theatrical  manage- 
ment in  Philadelphia.  In  that  city,  in  1829,  the  present  Jo- 
seph Jefferson,  the  third  of  the  name  and  the  fourth  in  his 
line,  was  born. 

The  earliest  recollection  of  this  man,  who  in  his  chosen  pro- 
fession has  won  world-wide  celebrity,  is  his  appearance  as  the 
child  in  "  Pizarro."  This  entree  upon  the  stage,  which  he  has 
since  so  much  adorned,  was  made  in  Washington,  when  he  was 
little  more  than  three  years  of  age,  and  an  incident  connected 
with  it  may  possibly  have  bent  his  mind  to  the  taste  for  come- 
dy Avhich  has  since  made  him  famous. 

At  the  time  in  question  his  aunt,  "  the  great  Mrs.  Chapman" 
(Elizabeth  Jefferson),  was  playing  Cora.  In  that  character,  refer- 
ring to  the  child,  she  remarks,  addressing  her  husband,  Alonzo, 

"  Sweet  child  !  he  will  speak  soon." 

As  she  said  this,  on  the  occasion  of  the  infant  "  Joe  "  Jeffer- 
son's first  appearance,  he,  not  at  all  awed  by  the  peculiarity  of 
his  position,  walked  toward  the  foot -lights,  and,  addressing 
the  leader  of  the  orchestra,  whom  he  knew,  said,  "  Green,  why 
don't  you  play  the  fiddle  ?" 

This  "  break"  in  a  scene — which  is  one  of  the  most  sentimen- 
tal upon  the  stage — naturally  elicited  a  roar  of  laughter  from 
the  audience.  From  this  time  on  the  child  appeared  frequently 
in  minor  parts  on  the  stage ;  and  as  he  grew  up  he  adopted  the 
profession  of  an  actor,  despite  the  wishes  of  his  father,  who  had 
intended  him  to  be  a  painter  of  stage-scenery. 

Of  his  childhood  his  aunt,  Elizabeth  Jefferson  (afterward,  by 
successive  marriages,  Mrs.  Chapman,  Mrs.  Richardson,  and  Mrs. 


A  Lifetime  on  the  Stage.  357 

Fisher),  in  a  chapter  of  reminiscences,  written  at  the  request  of 
that  distinguished  dramatic  critic,  charming  poet,  and  genial  gen- 
tleman, William  Winter,  speaks  as  follows:  "My  nephew,  Joseph 
Jefferson,  bears  a  striking  resemblance  to  my  father  (his  grand- 
father. He  was  a  wonderfully  precocious  child :  all  who  remem- 
ber his  childhood  say  this.  When  little  more  than  two  years 
old  he  gave  an  imitation  of  Fletcher  the  Statueman,  and  it  was 
indeed  an  astonishing  feat.  My  mother  chanced  to  notice  the 
child  in  a  corner  of  the  room  trying  this  experiment,  and  she 
called  him  to  her  side,  and  found  that  he  had  got  all  the  '  busi- 
ness' of  the  statues,  though  he  could  not  have  pronounced  the 
name  of  one  of  them.  She  made  him  a  dress  similar  to  that 
worn  by  Fletcher,  and  he  actually  gave  these  imitations  upon 
the  stage  when  only  three  years  old.  Rice  came  to  Washing- 
ton to  sing  his  "Jim  Crow"  songs,  and  little  Joe  caught  them 
up  directly,  and,  in  his  baby  voice,  sang  the  songs,  although  he 
could  not  correctly  pronounce  the  words  that  he  sang.  His 
taste  for  drawing  and  painting  showed  itself  at  an  early  age. 
My  father  could  not  keep  his  drawing-box  away  from  the  boy. 
Joe  was  in  his  fourth  year  when  my  father  died.  The  old 
gentleman  idolized  him.  I  remember  his  almost  daily  saluta- 
tion would  be,  'Joe,  where's  my  paint?'  'It's  gone,'  said  the 
child.  'Yes,  sir,  I  know  it's  gone;  but  where?  where?'  'Him 
lost,'  was  Joe's  reply*  '  Yes,  sir,  I  know  it's  lost  and  gone ;  but 
how  and  where  ?'  The  boy  would  look  up  roguishly  and  say, 
'  Him  hook  um  ;'  and  then  his  grandfather  would  prophesy  what 
a  great  artist  that  child  would  one  day  become,  and  say  that  he 
was  '  the  greatest  boy  in  the  world,'  and  let  him  destroy  any 
amount  of  anything  he  chose.  The  inheritance  of  talent  was 
never  more  clearly  shown  than  in  the  case  of  the  present 
Joseph  Jefferson  :  his  habits,  his  tastes,  his  acting — all  he  is 
and  does  seems  just  a  reiteration  of  his  grandfather." 

When  young  Jefferson  was  ten  years  old  the  great  Western 
portion   of  America  began  to  be  vigorously  opened  up,  and 


358  Twelve  Americans. 

Chicago  became  one  of  the  principal  settlements  in  it.  To  that 
city,  then  little  more  than  a  hamlet,  his  father  went,  and  there 
opened  a  small  hall,  which,  by  courtesy,  was  called  a  "theatre." 
At  that  time  the  whole  town  did  not  contain  many  more  in- 
habitants than  the  number  of  people  to  whom  Mr.  Jefferson 
has  since  played  in  a  single  audience.  The  little  hall  leased  by 
his  father  was  furnished  with  one  or  two  sets  of  scenery,  which 
did  duty  on  all  occasions,  was  dimly  lighted  by  lamps,  and  was 
in  every  way  in  marked  contrast  to  the  magnificent  theatrical 
palaces  which  have  since  sprung  into  existence  in  the  great 
Prairie  City. 

After  having  spent  a  time  in  Chicago  young  Jefferson  went 
with  his  father  to  Mobile,  a  place  which  was  then  one  of  the 
most  cultivated  centres  in  America,  and  at  the  same  time  one 
of  the  greatest  cotton  marts  in  the  world.  Here  his  father 
died,  and  the  boy,  together  with  his  mother  and  sister,  were 
left  entirely  destitute.  But  the  elder  Jefferson  had  always 
been  a  stage  favorite  with  the  citizens  of  the  Gulf  City,  and  at 
his  death  the  warm-hearted  Southerners  generously  came  for- 
ward and  proposed  a  benefit  for  those  whom  he  had  left  be- 
hind him.  The  proposal  was  well  sustained  upon  all  sides,  and 
resulted  in  no  inconsiderable  profit  to  the  needy  family.  With 
the  help  of  the  means  thus  acquired  young  Jefferson  went  to 
Texas,  and  joined  a  theatrical  company  which  was  then  travel- 
ling there.  While  he  was  in  that  State  the  Mexican  war 
broke  out,  and  his  manager,  a  Mr.  Hart,  conceived  the  notion 
of  following  up  the  American  army,  and  playing  to  it  in  camp 
or  in  Mexican  towns  which  might  be  captured.  Even  to  this 
day  Mr.  Jefferson  vividly  remembers  that  he  ai'rived  in  Point 
Isabel  on  the  morning  of  the  May  day  on  which  the  first  bat- 
tle of  the  Mexican  war  was  fought,  and  in  which  engagement 
Major  Ringgold  was  killed. 

Two  days  after  Matamoras  was  taken  the  Hart  company, 
with  young  Jefferson  in  it,  played  in  the  old  Spanish  Theatre. 


A  Lifetime  on  the  Stage.  359 

The  town  was  naturally  in  a  state  of  great  excitement,  but 
the  players  were  afforded  ample  protection  by  General  "Zach" 
Taylor,  who  was  in  command ;  and,  although  that  sturdy  vet- 
eran, from  religious  scruples,  did  not  himself  attend  the  theatre, 
General  Twiggs,  one  of  his  subordinate  commanders,  was  con- 
stantly seen  at  the  performances.  Under  such  protection,  and 
being  liberally  patronized  by  the  American  officers,  soldiers, 
and  camp-followers,  the  Hart  Dramatic  Company  made  consid- 
erable money,  and  had  bright  anticipations  for  the  future. 
Suddenly,  however,  all  these  hopes  were  nipped  in  the  bud  by 
an  order  directing  the  army  to  advance  into  the  interior,  and 
commanding  that  no  civilians  of  any  sort  be  allowed  to  accom- 
pany it.  Under  such  circumstances  the  theatrical  troupe  was 
obliged  to  remain  in  Matamoras,  and,  as  they  obtained  little 
or  no  support  from  the  inhabitants  of  the  place,  they  soon 
sank  into  a  state  of  desperate  poverty.  In  this  dilemma  Jef- 
ferson, together  with  a  son  of  Alderman  Bergen,  of  Philadel- 
phia, who  was  also  a  member  of  the  company,  with  that  elas- 
ticity which  belongs  to  youth,  formed  the  idea  of  starting  a 
coffee-and-cakc  saloon  on  the  most  approved  American  plan. 
This  the  two  youths  did  by  securing  the  right  of  use  of  one 
end  of  a  counter  in  a  saloon  kept  by  a  number  of  gamblers 
who  had  followed  the  army  with  the  purpose  of  preying  on  it. 
They  invested  $15  in  their  venture,  and  for  a  few  weeks  were 
very  successful,  gaining  as  much  as  400  per  cent,  profit  on 
their  sales  in  a  single  day.  But  even  while  they  were  antici- 
pating the  accumulation  of  a  large  fortune  one  of  those  sav- 
age rows  peculiar  to  gambling-houses  in  the  olden  time  broke 
out  in  the  place  where  they  were  established  ;  their  coffee-boiler 
was  riddled  with  pistol-balls,  their  other  effects  overturned  and 
destroyed ;  and,  though  they  escaped  with  their  lives  and  un- 
harmed, they  did  so  only  to  find  themselves  in  the  streets  of 
Matamoras  penniless  and  without  a  friend.  Still,  they  did  not 
despair,  but,  by  dint  of  push  and  perseverance,  succeeded  in 


360  Twelve  Americans. 

finding  their  way  down  the  Rio  Grande  to  Brazos  Santiago, 
and  from  there  were  glad  to  obtain  passage  on  a  condemned 
schooner  to  New  Orleans. 

Mr.  Jefferson  remembers  that  at  that  time  New  Orleans  was, 
to  use  a  technical  phrase,  one  of  the  best  "  show  towns"  in  the 
country.  The  old  St.  Charles  and  American  Theatres,  in 
which  English  plays  were  produced,  were  both  most  liberally 
patronized ;  and  the  French  Opera-house,  during  the  season, 
was  always  filled  with  the  rich  and  fashionable  people  of  the 
Crescent  City.  On  the  night  of  bis  arrival  the  young  man, 
availing  himself  of  a  privilege  accorded  to  the  profession  of 
actors,  obtained  free  admission  to  the  St.  Charles  Theatre  to 
see  "Richard  III."  played  from  the  original  text.  John  E. 
Owens,  then  a  young  man,  performed  in  the  farce  "A  Kiss  in 
the  Dark,"  and  even  at  that  early  date  is  remembered  by  Mr. 
Jefferson  as  an  actor  of  ability. 

Thus  amusing  himself  by  attending  the  performances  at  the 
theatres,  and  living  as  best  he  could  upon  the  resources  of  an 
almost  empty  pocket,  Jefferson  remained  in  New  Orleans  un- 
til he  received  from  his  half-brother — the  great  actor,  Charles 
Burke — money  sufficient  to  bring  him  to  Philadelphia.  This 
journey  he  made  by  travelling  up  the  Mississippi  River  on  what 
he  remembers  as  a  commodious  steamer.  Afterward  lie  went 
to  Wheeling,  in  what  is  now  the  State  of  West  Virginia.  The 
trip  was  accomplished  without  incident,  notwithstanding  the 
fact  that  the  steamer  had  on  board  among  its  passengers  many 
of  the  roughest  class  of  border  card  -  players.  Arriving  at 
Wheeling,  the  young  man  took  the  stage  to  Cumberland,  and 
thence  travelled  over  another  stage-route  safely  to  Philadel- 
phia. Nearly  three  weeks  were  occupied  in  making  the  jour- 
ney, which  now,  as  it  is  almost  needless  to  state,  can  be  ac- 
complished in  about  as  many  days. 


A  Lifetime  on  the  Stage.  361 


II. 

TWO  GREAT   COMEDIANS. 

When  lie  arrived  in  Philadelphia  as  described  Joseph  Jef- 
ferson was  about  eighteen  years  of  age.  He  found  his  half- 
brother,  Charles  Burke,  playing  "leading  comedy  business"  at 
Burton's  Theatre,  and  through  his  influence  he  was  given  a 
subordinate  position  in  the  company.  His  recollections  of 
Burton  and  Burke — whom  he  believes  to  have  been,  in  their 
respective  lines  of  acting,  the  greatest  comedians  this  country 
has  ever  known — are  still  remarkably  vivid.  At  the  time  in 
question  both  of  these  actors  were  in  the  height  of  their 
popularity.  They  were  as  dissimilar  in  their  appearance  and 
methods  as  it  was  well  possible  for  men  to  be ;  they  were 
only  alike  in  the  firm  hold  which  they  had  upon  the  affec- 
tions of  the  amusement-loving  public. 

Burton  was  a  stout,  portly  man,  with  a  large  and  rather 
gross  face,  which  was,  nevertheless,  wonderfully  mobile.  His 
prominent  feature  was  his  large  and  expressive  black  eyes. 
He  was  ungainly  in  figure,  and  often  uncouth  in  speech.  His 
method  of  amusing  was  coarse  and  broad,  even  to  the  verge  of 
vulgarity.  All  his  characters  were  painted,  so  to  speak,  with 
a  "  pound  brush,"  full  of  color.  It  was  by  these  means  that 
he  caught  and  tickled  the  fancy  of  the  crowd. 

Charles  Burke,  equally  if  not  more  popular,  was,  in  appear- 
ance as  in  method,  a  marked  contrast  to  Burton.  He  was  tall, 
lithe  of  figure,  possessed  of  remarkable  grace,  and  with  a  face  of 
winning  softness,  refinement,  and  good-humor.  He  had  all  the 
comic  powers  of  Burton  without  any  of  his  coarseness.  His 
humor  was  so  subtle  and  delicately  refined  that  his  audiences 
almost  knew  in  advance  what  he  was  going  to  say,  and  laughed 
by  instinct  before  they  had  actually  heard  or  realized  his  point. 
His  art  was  intuitive.     It  was  no  trouble  to  him  to  be  humor- 

16 


362  Twelve  Americans. 

ous.  All  bis  best  "  situations  "  seemed  to  come  to  him  spon- 
taneously.    He  never  seemed  to  seek  after  effect. 

Both  be  and  Burton,  as  Mr.  Jefferson  remembers  tbem,  were 
close  students  of  human  nature,  and  worked  with  the  utmost 
diligence  in  their  professions.  Tbey  were  good — even  excellent 
— in  a  larger  variety  of  characters  than  are  any  of  tbe  comedi- 
ans of  tbe  present  day,  though  it  is  perhaps  doubtful  if  they 
ever  attained  the  perfection  which  now  belongs  to  a  number  of 
prominent  actors  who  could  be  named.  It  was  not  necessary 
that  they  should  attain  such  perfection,  for  the  public  to  which 
they  played  was  different  from  the  public  of  to-day.  Their 
audiences  demanded  general  excellence  in  an  actor,  coupled 
with  originality  of  characterization.  The  public  of  to-day,  as 
Mr.  Jefferson  believes,  accustomed  as  it  is  to  specialists,  de- 
mands absolute  excellence  in  one  particular  line  of  characters, 
and  will  not  accept  anything  short  of  such  excellence,  even 
though  the  performance  be  a  very  good  one. 

With  the  examples  of  Burton  and  Burke  before  him  Jeffer- 
son continued  in  the  Philadelphia  Theatre  for  two  seasons. 
The  parts  which  were  assigned  to  him  were  always  small  ones, 
but  the  experience  and  knowledge  which  he  gained  by  the 
careful  study  of  the  methods  of  these  two  exponents  of  the 
dramatic  art  proved  in  after-years  to  be  of  inestimable  value. 
Having  remained  in  this  good  school  for  tbe  two  seasons  in 
question,  he  was  seized  with  that  common  complaint  among 
young  actors — a  mania  for  management.  At  this  period  be 
was  twenty  years  old,  and  had  formed  the  acquaintance  of  two 
or  three  young  men  of  Philadelphia  who  were  warm  admirers 
of  the  drama  and  who  had  faith  in  him.  "With  money  pro- 
vided by  these  generous  associates  he  undertook  the  manage- 
ment of  Peale's  Museum,  a  little  theatre  in  Chestnut  Street — 
the  enterprise  being  noteworthy  from  the  fact  that  Mrs.  D.  P. 
Bowers  was  bis  "  leading  lady."  Despite  this  assistance,  bow- 
ever,  the  result  of  the  undertaking  was  failure.     To  use  his 


A  Lifetime  on  the  Stage.  363 

own  expression,  he  lost  bis  own  time  and  the  money  of  his 
bosom-friends.  Looking  back  now  to  that  old  fiasco,  he  laugh- 
ingly remarks  that  his  conscience  tells  him  that  he  took  the 
theatre  as  much  for  the  purpose  of  playing  his  own  favorite 
parts  as  for  any  other  reason,  and  that  he  thus  "  immolated 
the  money  of  his  friends  upon  the  altar  of  his  individual  van- 
ity." Of  this  period  of  his  career  Mr.  Jefferson  speaks  with 
all  the  warmth  and  candor  of  the  whole-souled  and  self-under- 
standing gentleman  that  he  is. 

After  his  failure — and  again  I  cannot  do  better  than  follow 
his  own  recital  —  being  twenty -one  years  of  age,  without  a 
situation,  having  exhausted  the  generosity  of  his  friends,  and 
being  without  money,  he  thought  the  best  thing  he  could  do 
would  be  to  marry ;  and  he  did  marry,  living  for  many  years 
afterward  most  happily  with  the  lady  of  his  choice.*  Having 
thus  given  hostages  to  fortune,  with  this  additional  incentive 
to  nerve  him  to  success  the  young  man  again  set  out  upon  the 
troubled  path  which  leads  to  public  approval  or  condemnation. 
He  secured  an  engagement,  after  much  difficulty,  to  play  sec- 
ond comedy  parts  in  the  old  National  Theatre,  in  New  York, 
which  was  then  under  the  management  of  Chanfrau.  In  the 
company  with  him  there  was  his  half-brother,  Charles  Burke ; 
Mrs.  Barney  Williams  (then  Mrs.  Mestayer) ;  and  his  own 
youthful  wife,  whose  stage  name  was  Margaret  Lockyer.  At 
that  same  time  the  old  Bowery  Theatre  was  in  its  palmiest 
days,  counting  among  its  attractions  John  Gilbert  and  the  Wal- 
lacks.  Burton's  Theatre  was  also  liberally  patronized.  So, 
despite  its  attractions,  the  National  met  with  only  indifferent 
success.  Mr.  Jefferson,  with  the  other  actors  engaged  in  its 
company,  naturally  shared  to  some  extent  in  the  depression 
caused  by  its  lack  of  entire  success,  and,  after  playing  one  sea- 


*  His  first  wife  having  died,  Mr.  Jefferson  subsequently  married  a  sec- 
ond time. 


364  Twelve  Americans. 

son  in  New  York,  he  again  determined  to  undertake  manage- 
ment for  himself. 

This  determination  resulted  in  his  forming  a  partnership 
with  John  Ellsler,  to  conduct  the  business  of  the  "  Southern 
Circuit,"  which  then  included  the  cities  of  Wilmington,  N.  C. ; 
Charleston,  S.  C. ;  Savannah,  Macon,  and  Augusta,  Georgia. 
It  is  noticeable  that  Atlanta — since  the  war,  and  principally 
by  reason  of  Northern  enterprise,  the  most  progressive  city 
in  the  South — was  in  those  days  a  miserable  village,  and  never 
visited  by  even  the  most  insignificant  combinations  of  strolling 
players.  Macon,  on  the  contrary,  was  a  city  of  a  great  deal  of 
importance,  much  enterprise,  and  considerable  wealth ;  and  in 
Macon,  therefore,  the  young  managers  determined  to  make 
their  first  venture,  the  understanding  being  that  Ellsler  should 
take  charge  of  the  business  management,  while  Jefferson  looked 
after  matters  pertaining  to  the  stage.  In  furtherance  of  this 
plan  the  young  actor  went  in  advance  to  Macon,  fitted  up  the 
hall,  painted  new  scenery — he  having  picked  up  this  art  by 
degrees  from  his  father — and  saw  that  the  embryo  theatre  was 
provided  with  plank  seats,  which,  as  he  himself  says,  Avere  "  as 
destitute  of  cushions  as  they  were  of  backs."  Oil-lamps  served 
as  foot-lights,  and  candles  stuck  here  and  there  illuminated  to 
some  extent  the  body  of  the  house.  Notwithstanding  the  prim- 
itive character  of  the  establishment,  however,  the  price  of  ad- 
mission to  the  best  places  was  fixed  at  one  dollar.  There  were 
no  ticket  speculators  in  those  days.  The  public  dealt  directly 
with  the  managers ;  and  the  public  of  Macon,  not  having  had 
an  opportunity  of  going  to  a  theatre  for  many  months  before, 
flocked  to  the  Jefferson-Ellsler  entertainment.  For  four  weeks 
the  company  played  to  full  houses,  and  made  a  great  deal  of 
money. 

Elated  by  this  success,  the  managers  decided  to  venture  on  a 
larger  field  of  operations,  and  to  this  end  they  leased  the  princi- 
pal theatre  in  Savannah.     The  company  entered  that  city  after 


A  Lifetime  on  the  Stage.  365 

the  Macon  engagement  with  flying  colors,  but,  as  the  event 
proved,  nobody  noticed  the  colors ;  and  at  the  end  of  two 
weeks  the  fund  they  had  accumulated  in  Macon  was  exhaust- 
ed, and  they  found  themselves,  with  empty  pockets,  playing 
night  after  night  to  empty  benches.  In  the  midst  of  this 
dilemma  young  Jefferson  one  day  walked  down  one  of  those 
foliage -arched  avenues  which  have  made  Savannah  famous. 
The  waving  drapery  of  moss  hanging  from  the  live-oak-trees 
was,  as  he  himself  says,  only  typical  of  the  melancholy  and 
sombre  feelings  in  his  own  heart — his  expectations  for  the 
future  were  as  dim  as  was  the  light  which  penetrated  the  thick 
canopy  of  leaves  above  him.  Walking  thus  in  that  Savannah 
street,  Jefferson  suddenly  observed  coming  toward  him  a  man 
who  was  fully  six  feet  six  inches  in  height,  and  who  was  the 
personification  of  the  great  English  novelist's  character  de- 
scribed as  "  looking  like  the  afternoon  shadow  of  somebody 
else."  This  giant  figure,  with  a  dash  and  abandon  hardly  de- 
scribable,  passed  Jefferson.  The  youthful  manager  turned  and 
looked  after  him,  only  to  find  that  the  giant  had  also  turned 
and  was  looking  after  him.  At  once  Jefferson  went  back,  and, 
addressing  the  tall  stranger,  said, 

"  I  have  never  seen  you  before,  sir,  but  from  what  I  have 
heard  I  am  assured  that  you  are  Sir  William  Don." 

"  I  am,  sir,"  replied  the  stranger,  in  a  voice  of  wonderful 
geniality  and  warmth. 

"And  I,  sir,"  replied  Jefferson,  "am  an  actor." 

"Yes,"  said  Sir  William,  quietly  surveying  him  from  head 
to  foot,  "  you  look  like  one." 

"  I  am  also  a  manager,"  continued  Jefferson. 

"  Damme,  sir,"  responded  the  other,  quickly,  "  I  should  never 
have  guessed  that." 

"  Well,  to  be  frank  with  you,"  resumed  Jefferson,  just  a 
little  disconcerted  by  this  abrupt  and  blunt  criticism  of  his 
appearance,  "  I  am  a  manager  in  considerable  distress.      My 


366  Twelve  Americans. 

company  has  not  been  doing  well  lately,  and  it  would  be  a 
godsend  if  you  would  consent  to  play  an  engagement  with 
us,  thereby  helping  us  out  of  the  difficulty  into  which  we 
have  fallen." 

"I  will  be  equally  frank  with  you,"  replied  Don,  "and  will 
say  to  you  that  I  am  quite  as  anxious  to  play  as  you  are  to 
have  me  do  so.  So  let  us  have  no  more  words  about  the  mat- 
ter, but  make  a  bargain." 

The  bargain  was  made,  Don  allowing  the  young  man  very 
liberal  terms.  No  sooner  had  it  been  concluded  than  Jeffer- 
son brought  his  "star"  in  triumph  to  his  partner,  Ellsler,  who 
highly  approved  the  transaction,  and  at  once  aided  the  young 
manager  to  procure  money  sufficient  to  properly  advertise  and 
"bill"  the  "  attraction." 

Sir  William  Don  was  at  this  time  known  by  repute  in  the 
South  and  in  other  parts  of  the  United  States  as  one  of  the 
most  peculiar  of  characters.  He  was  the  son  of  an  English 
baronet,  had  every  right  to  the  title  which  he  claimed,  and  was 
at  one  time  in  possession  of  large  estates.  The  money  which 
he  inherited,  however,  he  had  squandered  on  the  race  -  track 
and  in  the  entertainment  of  friends  and  followers.  Early  in 
life  he  had  conceived  a  passion  for  the  stage,  and,  every  other 
resource  failing  after  his  inheritance  was  gone,  he  at  last  hit 
upon  the  profession  of  an  actor  as  a  means  of  gaining  a  liveli- 
hood. The  more  successfully  to  prosecute  this  plan,  as  well  as 
with  the  hope  of  gaining  fresh  adventure,  he  had  left  his  home 
and  come  to  America.  These  general  facts  in  the  history  of 
the  man  being  known  to  the  people  of  Savannah,  and  they  be- 
ing ready  to  accept  with  the  usual  American  warmth  any  scion 
of  foreign  aristocracy,  Sir  William  Don's  engagement  in  their 
city  proved  to  be  a  success.  The  management  made  a  great 
deal  of  money  out  of  his  performances,  and  with  its  aid  Jef- 
ferson and  his  company  were  able,  after  the  end  of  the  en- 
gagement at  Savannah,  to  proceed  on  their  tour  to  Wilming- 


A  Lifetime  on  the  Stage.  367 

ton,  N.  C.  In  the  latter  city  they  were  for  two  weeks  very 
successful,  and  then,  as  business  began  to  droop,  they  thought 
that  they  might  be  able  again  to  revive  their  fortunes  by 
"playing  Sir  William."  To  this  end  they  wrote  him,  and  he 
shortly  afterward  arrived  in  Wilmington. 

Mr.  Jefferson  still  recalls  with  laughter  an  incident  which 
then  occurred.  The  Baronet  arranged  with  him  that  he  should 
make  his  opening  appearance  in  the  comedy  of  "Used  Up." 
To  provide  for  the  effective  production  of  that  piece  it  was 
necessary  to  dig  a  pit  for  a  "  stage  trap  "  in  the  ground  upon 
which  the  stage  of  the  primitive  Wilmington  theatre  rested. 
While  this  digging  was  being  done  by  a  negro  Jefferson  and 
Don  sat  in  front  of  the  theatre  smoking  and  chatting  over  the 
prospects  of  the  season.  Suddenly  they  were  interrupted  by 
the  black  trap-digger,  who,  screaming  with  terror,  rushed  out 
of  the  theatre,  crying, 

"  Oh,  Mar's'r  Jeff'son !  I'se  foun'  a  coffin  an'  a  copse  unda 
de  stage !     I'se  foun'  a  coffin  an'  a  copse  !" 

Highly  amused  at  the  terror  displayed  by  "  the  darkey," 
Jefferson  and  Don  went  into  the  pit  which  he  had  been  dig- 
ging, and  there  found,  sure  enough,  that  he  had  unearthed  a 
coffin  and  a  human  skeleton.  Upon  seeing  it  Jefferson,  half 
in  jest  and  half  in  earnest,  exclaimed, 

"  By  Jove,  Sir  William,  I  fear  we  have  struck  the.  grave  of 
our  theatrical  hopes !" 

His  words  were  singularly  prophetic.  The  titled  actor,  who 
had  been  so  successful  in  Savannah,  failed  to  attract  the  peo- 
ple of  Wilmington.  The  season  proved  a  dead  failure;  and 
the  company,  penniless  and  disheartened,  was  obliged  to  close 
business  and  return  to  New  York.  Arriving  there,  Jefferson, 
finding  himself  once  more  among  friends,  invited  Don,  who 
had  also  come  to  the  metropolis,  to  dine  with  him.  From 
that  eccentric  individual  he  received  the  following  character- 
istic reply : 


368  Twelve  Americans. 

"  In  Jail. 
"  My  dear  Jefferson, — It  would  afford  me  exceeding  pleasure  to  dine 
with  you  as  invited,  but  the  fact  is,  as  I  have  discovered,  that  there  are 
creditors  not  only  in  England  but  in  America  —  unaccommodating,  dis- 
obliging creditors  at  that ;  and  these  gentlemen,  for  their  own  benefit — 
though  how  they  -are  to  be  benefited  I  can't  conceive — yet  much  to  my  dis- 
comfort, make  it  necessary  for  me,  instead  of  dining  cosily  with  you,  to 
remain  impatiently  within  the  walls  of  a  debtors'  prison.  Smiling  upon 
you  through  the  bars,  and  wishing  you  all  possible  happiness  and  success, 
"  I  remain  yours,  etc.,  Don." 

For  many  years  after  this  Mr.  Jefferson  heard  no  more  of  the 
eccentric  Baronet-actor. 

III. 

"STARS"  OF   THE   OLDEN   TIME. 

In  the  year  following  his  success  in  Georgia  and  his  failure 
in  North  Carolina  the  young  manager,  being  again  associated 
Avith  Ellsler,  once  more  turned  his  steps  southward,  and  secured 
the  management  of  the  Charleston,  S.  C,  theatre.  It  was 
during  this  season  that  Julia  Dean  made  her  first  appearance 
in  that  city.  Mr.  Jefferson  still  remembers  her  as  a  woman 
of  great  beauty,  possessed  of  strong  dramatic  instincts.  She 
had  bright  blue  and  very  expressive  eyes,  and  a  wealth  of  light- 
brown  hair.  She  was  as  good  as  she  was  beautiful,  and  at  the 
time  in  question  occupied  very  much  the  same  position  on  the 
American  stage  which  is  now  held  by  Mary  Anderson.  Her 
advent  in  Charleston  was  the  occasion  of  a  sensation  among 
theatre-going  people  which  has  seldom  been  surpassed.  She 
played  in  a  round  of  characters  which  included  Julia  and 
Evadne,  and  by  her  strong  and  vigorous  yet  most  refined  act- 
ing, as  well  as  by  her  musical  and  sympathetic  voice,  won  the 
warmest  applause  from  people  of  every  sort.  The  young  men 
of  Charleston  "  went  wild  over  her."  She  was  nightly  the  re- 
cipient of  serenades,  and  because  of  her  goodness  and  many 
social  graces  she  soon  became  quite  as  great  a  favorite  among 


A  Lifetime  on  the  Stage.  369 

the  women  as  she  was  among  the  men.  She  was  also  a  finan- 
cial success  to  her  managers,  several  of  her  "houses"  amount- 
ing to  as  much  as  $1000 — a  remarkable  box-office  receipt  for 
one  evening  in  those  days.  •  It  was  during  this  engagement 
that  Miss  Dean  met  Dr.  Hayne,  son  of  Senator  Hayne,  of 
South  Carolina,  who  became  known  through  his  difficulty  with 
Daniel  Webster.  Subsequently  she  became  the  wife  of  that 
young  gentleman. 

Following  the  Dean  engagement,  Jefferson's  half-brother,  the 
celebrated  Charles  Burke,  appeared  at  the  Charleston  theatre. 
He  was  not  successful.  The  people  of  that  city  were  ac- 
customed to  the  acting  of  Jefferson,  and,  singularly  enough, 
the  critics  declared  that  Burke's  was  but  a  fair  imitation  of 
Jefferson's  style  and  method  of  acting.  Alas !  (to  use  Mr. 
Jefferson's  own  words)  "  the  exact  contrary  was  the  case — the 
imitation  was  the  other  way." 

After  Burke's  failure  the  elder  Booth  came  to  Charleston 
and  filled  a  most  successful  engagement.  He  was  accompanied 
by  his  young  son,  Edwin  Booth,  who  appeared  as  Wilfred  to 
his  father's  Sir  Edward  Mortimer,  in  the  then  most  popular 
play  of  "  The  Iron  Chest."  In  regard  to  the  great  Booth  Mr. 
Jefferson  cherishes  many  recollections.  His  distinction  as  an 
actor  and  his  peculiarities  as  a  man  are  so  well  known,  how- 
ever, that  it  is  unnecessary  to  do  more  than  cite  one  or  two 
incidents,  which  show  forcibly  some  of  his  characteristics  not 
yet  fully  made  public.  « 

There  is  a  general  idea  prevalent,  even  among  those  who  are 
believed  to  be  best  acquainted  with  the  traditions  of  the  stage, 
that  distinguished  actors,  when  "holding  the  mirror  up  to  Nat- 
ure "  during  their  great  performances,  are  exceedingly  irritable, 
difficult  to  approach,  and  easily  vexed  by  interruption.  This  Mr. 
Jefferson  remembers  to  have  been  the  case  with  Macready.  When 
that  great  actor  was  in  the  theatre  no  one  dared  approach  him. 
A  word  from  the  "  call-boy,"  from  any  subordinate,  an  interrup- 

1G* 


370  Twelve  Americans. 

tion  of  the  most  trivial  sort  when  he  was  in  his  dressing-room, 
was  enough  to  set  him  almost  wild  with  irritability.  His  bent 
of  mind  was  such  that,  having  once  set  his  thoughts  upon  the 
character  which  he  was  studying,  the  most  ordinary  circum- 
stance was  sufficient  to  disconcert,  annoy  him,  and  break  up  his 
train  of  thought. 

Booth  the  elder  had  a  mind  the  direct  opposite  of  this. 
He  knew  his  characters  by  intuition ;  he  could  assume  or  doff 
them  instantaneously  and  at  will. 

One  night,  in  the  Charleston  theatre,  while  playing  in  "  The 
Iron  Chest,"  he  stood  at  the  "  wing  "  with  Jefferson.  The 
latter  was  playing  Samson,  and  Booth,  of  course,  his  great 
part  of  Sir  Edward.  While  they  were  thus  standing  Booth, 
who  was  waiting  for  his  "  cue,"  said  to  Jefferson, 

"  By-the-way,  Joseph,  I  notice  that  you  don't  sing  the  song 
in  this  part  of  Samson.  Why  don't  you  do  it  the  way  your 
grandfather  used  to  do  ?" 

"Well,  Mr.  Booth,"  replied  the  young  man,  "I  think  it 
must  be  for  the  reason  that  I  don't  know  how.  I  never  knew 
that  there  was  a  song  in  the  part." 

"  Oh  yes,"  replied  Booth,  at  once  assuming  the  air  and  facial 
expression  of  a  comedian,  "  your  grandfather  used  to  do  it 
capitally.  This  is  the  way  the  song  ran  " — and  Booth  went  on, 
with  an  irresistibly  droll  expression  on  his  face,  to  sing  the 
ditty  beginning — 

"  A  traveller  stopped  at  the  widow's  gate." 

Suddenly,  and  while  he  was  in  the  midst  of  this  perform- 
ance, the  "cue"  was  given  for  his  appearance  on  the  stage. 
In  an  instant  he  dropped  the  comedy  part  which  he  had  for 
the  moment  assumed,  rushed  before  the  foot-lights,  had  his 
great  scene  with  Wilfred,  and,  coming  off  again,  met  Jefferson, 
at  once  reassumed  the  expression  of  Samson  with  all  natural- 
ness, and,  without  a  thought  of  affectation,  went  on  to  describe 


A  Lifetime  on  the  Stage.  371 

how  the  young  man's  grandfather  sang  the  comic  song,  "  A 
traveller  stopped  at  the  widow's  gate." 

The  elder  Booth's  memory  was  quite  as  remarkable  as  were 
some  of  his  other  characteristics.  During  the  engagement 
with  Jefferson  he  and  the  company  went  from  Charleston  to 
Augusta — a  trip  which  Booth  had  not  made  for  many  years. 
Yet  at  every  station  at  which  he  stopped  he  was  able  not  only 
to  recall  the  names  of  the  principal  planters  who  had  formerly 
lived  there,  but  with  the  utmost  exactness  told  the  number  of 
bales  of  cotton  they  had  "made"  in  a  certain  year,  the  number 
of  slaves  they  had  owned,  and  other  details  of  the  same  minute 
character.  During  this  engagement  Mr.  Jefferson  played  con- 
tinuously with  Booth,  assuming  such  parts  as  that  of  Samson ; 
the  Grave-digger,  in  "Hamlet;"  and  the  Lord  Mayor,  in  "Rich- 
ard III.,"  which  latter  part,  for  some  hidden  reason,  is  always 
thrown  to  the  lot  of  the  "low  comedian."  His  impressions 
of  Booth  and  Macready  are,  that  the  one  was  in  every  sense  a 
born  actor,  while  the  other  was  the  greatest  example  of  what 
can  be  accomplished  by  close  application,  keen  intelligence, 
and  untiring  study.  The  latter  won,  according  to  Mr.  Jeffer- 
son's views,  by  art ;  Booth  succeeded  by  natural  instinct.  No 
man,  according  to  Mr.  Jefferson,  has  ever  appeared  upon  the 
stage  who  threw  more  intensity,  soul,  and  passion  into  his 
performance  than  did  Booth  when  he  was  at  his  best. 

But  of  course,  upon  this  point,  as  upon  so  many  others 
connected  with  the  stage,  "doctors  differ"  widely.  For  in- 
stance, John  McCullough,  in  many  respects  the  greatest  player 
of  his  time,  and  certainly  an  excellent  judge  of  tragic  acting, 
holds  that  Edwin  Forrest  was  the  most  intense  and  passionate 
actor  known  to  the  English-speaking  stage.  He  is  also  of  the 
mind — differing  from  many  of  his  associates — that  Forrest  was 
a  man  of  warm  heart  and  generous  impulse.  In  support  of 
this  belief  he  delights  to  recall  an  incident  which  occurred  on 
the  first  night  of  an  engagement  filled  by  himself  and  the  great 


372  Twelve  Americans. 

tragedian  in  Boston.  The  play  was  "  Damon  and  Pythias," 
the  "star"  assuming  the  role  of  Damon.  McCullongh  played 
Pythias.  In  that  part  it  will  be  remembered  that  Damon,  on 
the  stage,  being  attacked,  Pythias  rushes  from  the  "  wings," 
crying,  "  Back  !  on  your  lives,  cowards  !"  and  then  advances  to 
clasp  the  hand  of  his  friend.  As  he  did  this  Forrest  noticed 
that  McCnllough  was  weak  and  trembling  from  stage  nervous- 
ness, and  that  his  hand  was  limp  and  clammy.  With  kindly 
sympathy  he  encouraged  him  ;  whispered,  "  Cheer  up,  my  boy; 
you  are  looking  well  and  doing  well ;"  pressed  his  hand  with 
a  warm,  magnetic  grasp ;  and  infused  such  new  life  into  him 
that  he  played  the  part  most  acceptably.  From  that  time  for- 
ward the  two  actors  continued  to  play  together  for  several 
years,  and  were  always  the  best  of  friends. 

In  1866  Forrest  went  to  California  on  one  of  the  Pacific 
mail  steamers,  taking  McCullough  with  him.  During  the  voy- 
age there  occurred  a  number  of  incidents  which  well  illus- 
trated the  peculiarities  of  the  famous  old  actor.  He  was  suffer- 
ing greatly  from  gout,  and,  in  addition — the  passage  being  a 
very  stormy  one — was  prostrated  by  sea-sickness.  One  day, 
while  in  this  condition,  groaning  and  swearing  on  deck  in  his 
own  peculiar  fashion,  he  came  face  to  face  with  Captain  Brad- 
bury, the  commander  of  the  ship,  and,  for  a  moment  looking 
at  him  as  if  he  would  annihilate  him,  blurted  out, 

"  Damme,  sir,  do  you  know  that  no  one  ever  had  any  rea- 
sonable excuse  for  going  to  sea  except  the  patriarch  Noah  ?" 

"  Well,  well — ah,  no — ah,  Mr.  Forrest — "  stammered  the  cap- 
tain ;  and  then,  recovering  himself,  and  entering  into  the  spirit 
of  the  occasion,  he  asked,  "  What  was  Noah's  excuse  ?" 

To  which  Forrest  at  once  replied,  "  Why,  damme,  sir,  if  he 
had  stayed  at  home  he  would  have  been  drowned !" 

On  board  this  same  vessel,  during  the  same  passage,  Mr. 
McCullough  recalls  that  there  was  an  exceedingly  doleful  Meth- 
odist preacher,  who,  after  the  habit  of  many  gentlemen  of  his 


A  Lifetime  on  the  Stage.  373 

clotb,  spoke  more  through  liis  nose  than  his  mouth,  and  made 
himself  very  disagreeable.  On  Sunday  it  was  announced  that 
this  gentleman  was  to  preach  in  the  cabin,  and  Forrest,  who 
was  always  fond  of  a  good  sermon,  asked  his  young  assist- 
ant if  there  was  any  probability  that  the  minister  would  do 
well.  McCullough,  in  a  spirit  of  mischief,  replied  that  he  was 
very  sure  he  would,  and  at  last  induced  Forrest  to  go  into  the 
cabin  and  listen  to  the  services.  When  they  commenced,  how- 
ever, it  was  at  once  evident  that  the  preacher  was  one  of  the 
most  dismal,  drawling,  and  uninteresting  of  his  species;  and 
from  time  to  time  during  the  discourse  Forrest,  who  was  so 
situated  that  he  could  not  well  get  out  of  the  cabin,  gave  vent 
to  his  outraged  feelings  by  loud  though  half-stifled  exclama- 
tions of  "0  Lord,  Lord  !  O  my  God,  my  God  !"  The  preacher 
was  evidently  much  pleased  with  these  demonstrations,  which 
he  took  as  evidences  of  his  own  power  in  awakening  peniten- 
tial thoughts  in  the  mind  of  the  actor;  and  the  next  morning, 
at  a  hint  from  McCullough  (who  was  bent  on  keeping  up  the 
joke),  he  called  on  Forrest  in  his  state-room,  to  converse  with 
him  regarding  his  soul. 

At  the  outset,  however,  his  good  intentions  were  nipped  in 
the  bud.     He  knocked  at  the  door  of  the  cabin. 

"  Come  in  !"  growled  the  actor,  in  deep  and  sonorous  tones. 
The  dominie  opened  the  door,  and  found  Forrest,  lying  half 
in  and  half  out  of  his  bunk,  moaning  with  sea-sickness  and 
racked  with  gout. 

"  Aha !  it  is  you,  is  it  ?"  cried  the  actor.  "  You  are  just  the 
man  I  want  to  see.  I  want  you  to  tell  me  what  your  Master's 
opinion  was  of  the  sea." 

"  My  Master,  sir  !  my  Master  !"  said  the  solemn-faced  preach- 
er.    "  Whom  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  Why,  whom  should  I  mean  but  the  Saviour  ?"  replied  For- 
rest.    "Don't  you  know  what  he  did  when  he  went  to  sea?" 

"  Well — ah,  no,  sir,  no,"  stammered  the  confused  parson. 


374  Twelve  Americans. 

"  Well,  then,"  thundered  Forrest,  "  I'll  tell  you.  He  went 
to  sea  only  once,  and  then  he  got  so  disgusted  that  he  walked 
ashore  again."  With  this  the  actor  turned  over  in  his  berth, 
with  a  groan,  and  the  parson  left  the  cabin  in  dismay. 

Arrived  in  San  Francisco,  Forrest  and  McCullough  played  a 
very  successful  engagement,  and  the  latter  became  so  great  ti 
favorite  that  he  remained  there  after  Forrest  returned  to  the 
East.  He  remembers  that  at  that  time  he  first  became  inti- 
mately associated  with  Edwin  Adams,  who  was  then  one  of 
the  reigning  favorites  of  the  Pacific  slope,  aud  of  whom  it 
was  said  that  he  was  so  genial,  sunny-tempered,  and  attractive 
that  by  the  very  force  of  his  own  magnetism  he  could  keep 
a  roomful  of  Sunday-school  teachers  up  all  night.  In  regard 
to  one  of  Adams's  peculiarities  Mr.  McCullough  feelingly  says, 
"  I  don't  think  Adams  ever  really  liked  to  drink.  He  certain- 
ly did  not  like  whiskey  for  the  sake  of  it;  it  was  only  that 
he  wanted  to  be  social,  and  delighted  in  seeing  those  about 
him  good-humored  and  happy." 

An  incident  which  happened  at  this  time  will  display  the 
quality  of  his  temper.  He  was  playing  in  uThe  Inconstant; 
or,  WTine  Works  WTonders,"  in  which  he  had  to  submit  to  hav- 
ing his  nose  pulled  by  a  bulh7.  This  latter  part  was  assumed 
by  "  Billy  "  Mestayer,  who,  by  accident,  gave  Adams's  delicate 
organ  a  more  vigorous  twinge  than  was  necessary  for  theatrical 
effect.  Adams  was  too  good-humored  to  be  annoyed  at  this, 
but  he  resolved  that,  when  it  came  to  the  scene  in  which  it 
was  his  turn  to  pull  the  bully's  nose,  he  would  pay  Mestayer 
off  in  his  own  coin.  This  determination  he  communicated 
privately  to  McCullough ;  and  the  latter,  for  the  sake  of  the 
joke,  in  turn  informed  Mestayer  of  Adams's  intention.  Mes- 
tayer at  once  braced  his  nerves  for  the  attack.  Nature  had 
blessed  him  with  one  of  the  fattest,  flattest,  and  most  insig- 
nificant noses  ever  put  upon  a  human  face ;  and,  in  order  to 
protect  it  the  better  from  Adams's  threatened  attack,  he  took 


A  Lifetime  on  the  Stage.  375 

the  precaution  to  smear  it  liberally  with  cold  cream  ;  so  that 
when  "the  star,"  later  on  in  the  play,  attempted  to  pull  it  he 
"  missed  his  grip,"  and  succeeded  only  in  greasing  his  own 
fingers.  Still,  Adams  was  determined  to  repay  Mestayer  after 
his  own  fashion,  and  created  shouts  of  laughter  on  the  stage 
and  in  the  audience  by  repeated  though  ineffectual  attempts 
to  pull  that  doubly  fatty  nose. 

Some  time  after  the  Adams  engagement  Lawrence  Barrett 
arrived  in  San  Francisco,  and  became  a  great  favorite.  McCul- 
lough  admired  him  greatly,  and  shortly  afterward  they  began 
playing  together.  They  travelled  to  different  parts  of  the 
Pacific  coast  mining-regions,  and  experienced  many  incidents 
characteristic  of  that  peculiar  country. 

One  Sunday  evening,  as  McCullough  now  recalls  with  much 
amusement,  they  dined  with  the  millionnaire  Mackey,  and  af- 
terward, on  the  same  evening,  played  in  "  Richard  III."  at 
Gold  Hill.  The  audience  assembled  in  the  hastily  improvised 
and  primitive  theatre  was  a  peculiar  one,  composed  entirely 
of  men,  who  were  iu  most  cases  accompanied  by  their  dogs. 
The  animals  with  barks  and  howls  occasionally  interrupted 
the  scenes  or  joined  in  the  applause  of  the  men.  McCullough 
was  cast  for  Richmond,  and  during  the  earlier  scenes  of  the 
play,  in  which  he  was  not  required  to  appear,  it  was  his  duty  to 
be  in  front  of  the  house  and  keep  an  eye  on  the  box-office. 
While  in  this  position  he  was  much  impressed  by  the  ludicrous- 
ness  of  the  scene  in  the  theatre,  and  the  fact  that  the  stage 
was  so  cramped  that  King  Richard's  plumes  swept  the  ceiling. 
Still  farther,  he  was  amused  to  sec  that  the  King's  retinue, 
the  army  of  Richard,  the  attendants  upon  the  Queen,  the  popu- 
lace, and  all  the  other  accessaries  of  the  tragedy,  consisted  of 
one  little,  lean,  and  hungry-looking  supernumerary.  So  when 
Richard  cries  out,  "  Has  any  careful  friend  discovered  yet  the 
number  of  the  rebels?"  McCullough,  in  front,  could  not  refrain 
from  exclaiming,  "  Yes,  there's  just  one  of  them — a  little  one  !" 


376  Twelve  Americans. 

This  sally  was  greeted  with  shouts  of  applause,  and  evident- 
ly gave  far  greater  amusement  to  the  audience  of  miners  than 
the  most  careful  acting  would  have  done. 

Subsequently,  when  it  became  McCullough's  turn  to  go  on 
the  stage  and  address  his  army  as  Richmond,  he  was  again 
confronted  by  that  same  lone  supernumerary,  and  so  vehement- 
ly declaimed  his  part  that  the  poor  wretch  became  terribly 
alarmed  and  ran  off  the  stage,  leaving  Richmond  to  finish  his 
speech  to  an  invisible  army,  amid  shouts  of  laughter  from  the 
audience  and  moans  of  despair  from  the  conscientious  Barrett. 

From  the  mining  regions  McCullough  and  Barrett  travelled 
East  with  their  company  overland,  acting  on  the  way  in  Salt 
Late  City  with  a  Mormon  company,  in  which  it  happened, 
while  playing  the  "  Lady  of  Lyons,"  that  Pauline  and  Melnotte's 
mother  were  both  wives  of  the  manager.  Subsequently,  with 
Barrett,  Mr.  McCullough  returned  to  San  Francisco,  opened  a 
new  theatre  there,  and  for  a  number  of  seasons  was  very  suc- 
cessful. During  all  this  time,  however,  he  was  anxious  to  try 
his  fortunes  as  a  "star,"  and  in  1873  he  first  set  out  on  his 
own  account  to  make  a  tour  of  the  country. 

Since  that  time  John  McCullough  has  won  for  himself  that 
enviable  position  in  his  profession  which  he  now  holds.  This 
he  has  done  as  much  by  very  hard  work  and  close,  constant 
application  as  by  natural  ability.  With  a  frankness  and  hon- 
est modesty  which  is  thoroughly  characteristic  of  him,  he  says 
that  he  has  had  great  difficulty  in  educating  himself  up  to  an 
appreciation  and  understanding  of  the  great  roles  which  he 
has  succeeded  in  making  so  peculiarly  his  own.  He  never  at- 
tempts, as  smaller  men  might  do,  to  conceal  the  fact  that  his 
early  training  was  most  defective.  On  the  contrary,  he  takes 
a  wholesome  pride  in  saying  that  for  many  years  every  step 
which  he  took  in  his  chosen  career  was  impeded  and  made 
difficult  by  lack  of  education.  That  he  has  overcome  such 
difficulties  must,  by  those  who  know  him,  always  be  remem- 


A  Lifetime  on  the  Stage.  377 

bered  to  his  great  credit.  And  that  he  has  overcome  them — 
thoroughly  overcome  them — there  can  be  no  doubt.  The  once 
unlettered  chair-maker's  apprentice*  is  to-day  one  of  the  best- 

*  In  the  year  1858  there  lived  in  Philadelphia  a  chair-maker's  appren- 
tice, who,  having  come  but  recently  from  "  the  green  isle  of  Erin,"  his 
birthplace,  still  had  upon  his  tongue  the  soft,  round  brogue  of  that  re- 
markable land.  As  chance  would  have  it,  there  worked  in  the  same  shop 
with  this  lad  an  old  fellow  who,  in  his  leisure  moments,  had  made  Shaks- 
peare  a  study,  and  who,  when  he  was  drunk — which  he  was  very  often — 
knew  no  higher  pleasure  than  pretending  to  murder  the  boy  with  a  paint- 
brush, and  then  over  his  apparently  dead  body  to  recite  Marc  Antony's 
funeral  oration.  The  lad,  full  of  dramatic  instinct,  which  he  at  that  time 
could  neither  understand  nor  appreciate,  entered  fully  into  the  spirit  of 
these  occasions,  and  stood  in  much  awe  of  his  fellow-workman,  fancying 
all  the  time  that  the  great  speech  was  original  with  him.  Indeed,  he  from 
time  to  time  made  so  accommodating  a  corpse,  and  so  pleased  his  de- 
bauchee companion,  that  one  day  the  latter  presented  him  with  a  copy  of 
Shakspeare's  plays.  This  was  the  commencement  of  the  dramatic  career 
of  John  McCullough,  who  to-day  stands  almost  without  a  rival,  and,  in  the 
roles  which  may  be  called  peculiarly  his  own,  entirely  without  a  rival  upon 
the  American  stage. 

No  sooner  had  he  dipped  into  the  mysteries  contained  in  that  volume  of 
Shakspeare  than  he  forever  threw  chair-making  to  the  winds,  and,  living 
literally  upon  bread-and-water,  attached  himself  to  an  association  of  ama- 
teur actors,  and,  with  all  the  power  of  physical  strength  and  great  mental 
energy  which  was  his,  applied  himself  to  studying  for  the  stage.  So  suc- 
cessful was  he  in  the  association  that,  on  the  occasion  of  one  of  its  most 
liberally  advertised  performances,  in  the  Callowhill  Street  Museum,  he  was 
allowed  to  personate  the  role  of  Othello,  and  (to  use  his  own  words,  now 
spoken  laughingly),  "A  queer  old  Othello  it  was."  That  performance, 
however,  happened  to  be  the  turning-point  in  his  life.  It  was  witnessed 
by  William  T.  Fredericks,  who  was  then  famous  as  one  of  the  most  careful 
stage-managers  in  the  country,  and  who  was  engaged  in  that  capacity  at 
the  Arch  Street  Theatre.  Mr.  Fredericks — a  peculiar  old  fellow,  by-the-way 
— noticed  with  pleasure  that  McCullough  was  letter-perfect  in  his  lines,  that 
he  had  a  strong,  melodious  voice,  and  spoke  so  as  to  be  heard  in  all  parts 
of  the  house.  Admiring  these  traits,  he  sent  for  the  young  man,  and  of- 
fered him  a  position  in  the  Arch  Street  Theatre  to  play  the  very  smallest 
parts,  at  four  dollars  a  week.  McCullough  jumped  at  the  chance,  and  first 
made  his  appearance  as  a  "  professional "  as  the  servant  in  "  The  Belle's 
Stratagem."  This  he  did  somewhat  under  protest,  it  must  be  confessed, 
for  he  had  become  so  accustomed,  while  in  the  dramatic  association,  to 
regarding  himself  as  the  ideal  Othello,  Macbeth,  and  Hamlet,  that  he  was 


378  Twelve  Americans. 

read  men  in  the  country.  Upon  every  subject  relating  to  Lis 
profession  he  is  almost  perfectly  informed.     And  his  knowledge 

sure  the  public  of  Philadelphia  was  losing  a  great  treat  in  not  being 
permitted  to  see  him  in  one  of  those  roles.  Under  these  circumstances 
his  astonishment  may  well  be  imagined  when  he  was  informed  that  he 
had  not  even  played  the  servant  satisfactorily.  He  was  at  first  greatly 
troubled  by  stage-fright,  and  only  remembers  now  that  he  was  almost  in 
despair  of  ever  succeeding  in  his  chosen  calling,  and  that  William  Wheat- 
ley  and  Mrs.  E.  L.  Davenport  assumed  the  principal  parts  in  the  night's 
performance. 

On  the  Monday  following  this  first  appearance  Mr.  E.  L.  Davenport  ap- 
peared at  "  the  Arch,"  in  "  The  Wife,"  and  it  became  young  McCullough's 
duty  to  hold  him  in  his  arms  while  he  died  on  the  stage.  The  young  man 
was,  as  he  now  remembers,  much  more  "  shaky  "  in  the  scene  than  the 
dying  man,  and  at  one  time  was  in  great  danger  of  dropping  him.  Daven- 
port was  exceedingly  kind  to  him,  however,  encouraged  him  to  do  his  best, 
and  gave  him  many  little  hints  which  were  of  great  service.  So  he  con- 
tinued for  a  time  playing  small  parts,  till  at  last  he  rose  to  the  dignity  of 
assuming  the  character  of  the  Lieutenant  of  the  Tower,  in  "  Richard  III." 
For  his  rendering  of  this  part  he  was  complimented  by  Davenport ;  and 
a  few  weeks  later,  "  Julius  Ca?sar  "  being  put  on  the  stage  for  a  "  run," 
McCullough  wTas  cast  to  play  Servius ;  Davenport  was  the  Brutus,  Wheat- 
ley  the  Marc  Antony,  and  John  Dolman,  a  popular  actor  at  that  time, 
the  Cassius.  During  the  last  rehearsal  of  the  piece  Davenport  went  to 
McCullough,  and,  patting  him  on  the  shoulder,  said, 

"  Xow,  John,  to-night  I  want  you  to  be  careful  above  all  things  to  look 
like  a  Roman." 

This  encouraged  the  young  man  to  do  his  best ;  and  he  now  recalls  with 
much  amusement  the  fact  that,  in  order  to  follow  as  closely  as  might  be 
Mr.  Davenport's  wish,  he  spent  the  last  twenty-five  cents  he  had  in  the 
world  to  have  his  hair  curled,  that  his  Roman  appearance  might  be  im- 
proved. That  evening  he  was  rewarded  by  a  round  of  applause,  which 
again  awoke  in  him  the  ambition  to  play  more  important  roles. 

He  soon  had  the  opportunity,  and  failed.  One  evening,  after  "  Julius 
Cresar  "  had  been  taken  off  the  stage,  and  just  before  the  curtain  went  up 
for  "  Speed  the  Plough,"  it  was  announced  that  one  of  the  actors,  named 
Stephens,  had  succumbed  to  the  general  failing  among  small  performers 
of  the  olden  time,  and  was  very  drunk.  McCullough,  at  the  shortest  no- 
tice, was  called  upon  to  assume  his  part.  He  did  only  moderately  well  in 
it,  and  later  in  the  evening,  when  he  was  to  assume  Stephens's  part  in  the 
French  melodrama  of  the  "  Carpenter  of  Rouen,"  he  broke  down  entirely, 
and  was  hissed  by  the  audience.  To  this  day  Mr.  McCullough  remembers 
that  in  his  deep  tribulation  Mr.  Davenport  was  exceedingly  kind,  assuring 


A  Lifetime  on  the  Stage.  379 

does  not  stop  here.  He  takes  the  liveliest  interest  in  every- 
thing which  concerns  the  political  and  material  interests  of  the 
country,  and  never  falls  into  the  error  of  believing  that  there  is 
no  world  beyond  the  theatre. 

During  the  ten  years  in  which  he  has  travelled  through  the 
country  as  a  theatrical  "  star  "  Mr.  McCullough  has  been  care- 


him  good-humoredly  that  all  great  actors  were  hissed  more  or  less  at  the 
commencement,  and,  in  fact,  that  they  had  to  expect  such  treatment  be- 
fore they  could  possibly  obtain  eminence.  Davenport  was  at  this  time 
in  the  zenith  of  his  fame,  and  McCullough  remembers  him  as  one  of 
the  most  painstaking  and  finished  actors  he  ever  knew.  His  Sir  Giles 
Overreach  and  Brutus,  in  the  opinion  of  the  younger  actor,  have  never 
been  equalled  on  the  American  stage.  His  one  fault  seems  to  have  been 
that  he  tried  to  do  too  much.  He  played  all  sorts  of  roles  most  accepta- 
bly ;  but  if  he  had  confined  himself  to  one  line  of  character  he  would 
doubtless  have  been  remembered  for  generations  to  come  as  one  of  the 
great  lights  of  the  profession.  That  he  did  not  succeed  better  financially 
was  due,  not  to  any  lack  of  popularity — for  during  a  long  career  he  nearly 
always  drew  large  audiences — but  because  he  had  absolutely  no  capacity 
for  business,  gave  no  attention  to  the  box-office  and  ticket-takers,  was  en- 
tirely engrossed  with  his  own  duties  on  the  stage,  was  open-handed  to  a 
fault,  and  always  ready  to  give  to  those  who  asked  for  his  assistance. 

As  has  been  said,  he  was  most  kind  to  McCullough,  and  under  his  direc- 
tion, and  in  the  company  of  such  players  as  John  Gilbert,  Mr.  Dolman, 
and  Mrs.  John  Drew  the  young  man  progressed  rapidly.  A  season  later, 
with  Davenport  he  went  to  the  Howard  Athenaeum,  in  Boston,  and  there 
met  Dan  Setchell,  then  a  great  popular  favorite  in  his  peculiar  comedy- 
parts,  and  the  same  Lawrence  Barrett  who  is  now  so  distinguished,  but 
who  was  then  only  just  struggling  into  prominence.  A  year  later  he  went 
back  to  Philadelphia,  to  the  Walnut  Street  Theatre,  and,  having  studied 
hard  in  the  mean  time,  attracted  the  attention  of  Edwin  Forrest.  The 
great  tragedian  at  once  conceived  for  him  one  of  those  peculiar  likes  for 
which  he  was  famous,  and  engaged  him  as  one  of  his  principal  supports. 
Regarding  this  engagement  McCullough  avers  that  it  is  not  true,  as  has  been 
asserted,  that  Forrest  was  in  the  habit  of  getting  bad  or  indifferent  actors 
about  him,  in  order  that  his  own  pre-eminent  ability  might  shine  the  more. 
On  the  contrary,  Forrest  was  always  most  anxious  to  get  the  best  support 
possible,  and  to  have  all  the  actors  about  him  thoroughly  competent  to  fill 
the  parts  given  them.  Still,  he  would  from  time  to  time,  as  in  the  case  of 
McCullough  himself,  take  a  fancy  to  some  young  man  who  had  more  ability 
than  experience,  and,  it  might  be,  unduly  push  him  forward. 


380  Twelve  Americans. 

fill  to  note  the  change  of  taste — or  perhaps  it  would  be  best  to 
say  the  change  of  appreciation — of  audiences  in  different  places. 
On  the  whole,  he  has  been  impressed  by  the  fact  that  the  de- 
sire to  witness  what  may  properly  be  called  legitimate  plays  is 
steadily  increasing.  He  finds,  in  addition,  that  people  are  al- 
ways most  anxious  to  see  an  actor  in  a  play  with  which  his 
name  has  become  identified,  rather  than  in  a  new  play.  That 
this  is  the  case  is  well  proved  by  the  fact  that  "Virginius" 
— for  a  long  time  regarded  as  an  old-fogy  piece,  though  why  it 
should  have  been  so  regarded  is  a  mystery — has  become,  since 
its  revival  by  Mr.  McCullough,  one  of  the  most  successful  plays, 
in  a  financial  sense,  which  is  now  presented  on  the  American 
stage.  Still  another  interesting  fact  noticed  by  the  distin- 
guished tragedian  is,  that  an  actor,  even  of  national  reputation, 
may,  for  some  unaccountable  reason,  be  very  coolly  received  in 
certain  places.  For  instance,  Pittsburg,  in  Pennsylvania,  for  a 
long  time  refused  to  accept  Mr.  McCullough  as  a  player  of  the 
first  class,  and  for  several  seasons  he  was  not  able  to  attract  a 
full  house  there.  This  was  the  case  notwithstanding  the  fact 
that  in  other  cities  near  by  he  was  most  popular,  and  always 
received  with  enthusiasm.  It  must  be  said  to  the  credit  of  the 
Pittsburg  people  that  they  have  rid  themselves  of  this  pecu- 
liarity, and  that  of  late  years  they  have  been  among  McCul- 
lough's  warmest  admirers.  They,  together  with  the  people  of 
the  rest  of  the  country,  have  seen  him  grow  and  progress  in 
his  art,  and,  perhaps,  whether  they  would  or  not,  have  been 
constrained  to  admit  his  great  ability.  At  all  events  they 
have  done  so.  Indeed,  there  is  now  no  city  in  the  Union  in 
which  John  McCullough  is  not  welcomed  as  one  of  the  most 
justly  distinguished  actors  we  have.  And  he  has  not  yet 
reached  the  eminence  which,  if  he  lives,  he  is  destined  to  oc- 
cupy. He  has  the  good-sense  never  to  disregard  intelligent 
criticism  ;  he  studies  constantly,  works  unceasingly,  and  is  rare- 
ly satisfied  with  himself.     Great  and  well-deserved  as  his  sue- 


A  Lifetime  on  the  Stage.  381 

cess  has  been,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  still  greater  successes 
are  in  store  for  him. 

But  all  this  is  a  digression.  To  return  to  Mr.  Jefferson,  the 
elder  Booth,  and  the  "  Southern  Circuit."  When  the  engage- 
ment with  the  great  American  tragedian  was  concluded  the 
young  managers  of  the  Charleston  theatre  found  that  their 
season  had  been  an  exceedingly  successful  one  artistically,  but 
that  they  would  have  to  vote  themselves  a  series  of  "  compli- 
mentary "  benefits  if  they  hoped  to  retire  with  profit.  After 
having  done  so  they  closed  their  business,  and  so  ended  their 
management  in  the  South. 

In  the  succeeding  season  Jefferson  appeared  at  the  Chestnut 
Street  Theatre,  Philadelphia,  under  the  management  of  the 
now  veteran  John  Gilbert.  His  first  appearance  was  as  Dr. 
Pangloss,  in  "The  Heir  at  Lawr,"  Gilbert  kindly  "coaching" 
him  in  the  traditions  of  the  part.  It  is  noticeable  that  J.  S. 
Clarke  and  Lizzie  Weston — afterward  Mrs.  Charles  Mathews — 
were  members  of  the  same  company.  In  the  following  season 
Mr.  Jefferson  himself  became  stage-manager,  acting  in  that  ca- 
pacity for  Henry  C.  Jarrett,  in  Baltimore.  It  was  during  this 
engagement — that  is  to  say,  about  185V — that  "  The  School  for 
Scandal "  was  performed,  under  Jarrett's  management,  in  the 
National  Theatre,  at  Washington,  with  a  cast  which  must  ever 
be  memorable.     It  was  as  follows : 

Sir  Peter  Teazle Henry  Placide. 

Sir  Oliver  Surface George  Andrews. 

Charles  Surface James  E.  Murdoch. 

Joseph  Surface J.  W.  Wallack,  Jr. 

Crabtree Tom  Placide. 

Sir  Benjamin  Backbite J.  M.  Dawson. 

Moses Joe  Jefferson. 

Trip J.  B.  Howe. 

Careless A.  H.  Davenport. 

Snake Edwin  Adams. 

Lady  Teazle Lizzie  Weston. 

Mrs.  Candour Kate  Horn. 

Maria Mary  Devlin. 

Lady  Sneerwell Mrs.  Germon. 


382  Twelve  Americans. 

With  these  players  the  piece  was  performed  one  night  only. 
The  theatre  was  crowded  to  the  doors,  among  those  who  wit- 
nessed the  performance  being  the  President  of  the  United 
States,  nearly  all  the  members  of  his  Cabinet,  and  more  than 
half  of  the  Senators  and  Representatives  in  Congress. 

At  the  close  of  his  engagement  with  Jarrett,  Mr.  Jefferson, 
under  medical  advice,  went  to  Europe  on  a  sailing-vessel. 
While  in  London  he  visited  all  the  principal  theatres,  carefully 
noting  the  methods  of  the  celebrated  English  actors.  He  was 
particularly  impressed  with  the  performances  of  Frederick  Rob- 
son,  and  of  Mr.  Wright,  whom,  as  a  low  comedian,  he  still  re- 
gards as  having  been  second  only  to  Burton.  While  in  Lon- 
don he  was  offered  an  engagement  to  play  in  farces  at  the 
Drury  Lane  Theatre,  but,  as  the  event  has  since  proved,  he 
very  wisely  declined  the  offer. 

Returning  to  America  after  this  visit  to  London,  he  became 
stage -manager  for  John  T.  Ford,  at  Richmond,  and  the  fol- 
lowing season  joined  Laura  Keene  in  the  second  year  of  her 
lesseeship  of  the  Olympic  Theatre,  in  New  York.  He  opened 
as  Pangloss,  in  "The  Heir  at  Law,"  Laura  Keene  playing  Cicely 
Homespun,  and  he  remained  with  her  for  two  seasons.  In  the 
second  year  of  his  engagement,  and  the  third  of  Miss  Keene's 
management,  the  company  at  the  Olympic  included  some  of 
the  most  distinguished  performers  who  have  ever  appeared  on 
the  American  stage.  Among  them  were  William  Rufus  Blake, 
the  great  eccentric  comedian  ;  C.  W.  Couldock,  Charles  Peters, 
Joseph  Jefferson,  E.  A.  Sothern,  J.  G-.  Burnett,  Charles  Wheat- 
leigh,  James  H.  Stoddart,  Laura  Keene,  Mrs.  Blake,  Sara  Ste- 
vens, Effie  Germon,  Mrs.  Sothern,  and  Mary  Wells.  It  was 
during  this  season,  and  with  this  remarkable  combination,  that 
the  fortunes  of  Laura  Keene's  Theatre  were  revived  by  the 
production  of  the  play  then  called  "  Our  American  Cousin." 
At  first,  as  is  now  familiarly  known,  the  part  of  Lord  Dun- 
dreary, in  that  play,  was  an  exceedingly  insignificant  one;  but 


A  Lifetime  on  the  Stage.  383 

Sothern,  to  whom  it  was  intrusted,  little  by  little  worked  it  up 
until  be  made  of  it  tbe  famous  Dundreary  of  recent  years. 

After  this  second  season  at  the  Olympic,  Mr.  Jefferson  went 
to  tbe  Winter  Garden,  under  the  management  of  Boucicault 
and  Stuart,  and  there  aided  in  producing-  "  Dot :  the  Cricket  on 
tbe  Hearth,"  "  The  Octoroon,"  "  Nicholas  Nickleby,"  and  other 
pieces,  which  tended  to  make  tbe  season  a  famous  one.  The 
cast  in  "Dot"  may  be  recalled  as  being  particularly  memorable. 
It  was  as  follows  : 

John  Peerybingle Henry  Pearson. 

Caleb  Plummer Joe  Jefferson. 

Tackleton J.  B.  Johnston. 

Tlie  Stranger A.  II.  Davenport. 

Dot Miss  Agnes  Robertson. 

Tillie Mrs.  John  Wood. 

Mrs.  Fielding Mrs.  Blake. 

Bertha Sara  Stevens. 

May  Fielding Mrs.  J.  H.  Allen. 

It  is,  perhaps,  unnecessary  to  add  that  the  production  of  the 
dramas  in  question  with  such  casts  met  with  tbe  success  which 
they  deserved. 

In  18G0,  when  the  troubles  just  preceding  the  war  were  at 
their  height,  Mr.  Jefferson  went  to  fulfil  an  engagement  in  Cal- 
ifornia. He  expected  the  very  best  results  from  this  visit,  as 
did  also  those  under  whose  management  he  played.  Unfortu- 
nately, their  hopes  were  not  realized.  The  engagement  was 
not  a  success,  the  failure  being  attributable,  as  Mr.  Jefferson 
now  believes,  to  an  undue  amount  of  advance  advertising.  The 
people  of  the  Pacific  Coast,  long  before  his  arrival,  were  led  to 
expect  the  most  wonderful  things  from  him.  So  expecting, 
they  went  to  see  him  very  much  in  the  same  fault-finding  and 
critical  mood  characteristic  of  the  audiences  which  assembled 
at  Booth's  Theatre,  in  New  York,  to  sec  Sarah  Bernhardt.  The 
young  comedian  played  remarkably  well,  but  he  was,  perhaps, 


384  Tivelve  Americans. 

not  then  equal  to  the  strain  which  was  put  upon  his  powers. 
"With  characteristic  simplicity  and  candor  he  now  admits  this. 

Thus  failing  in  California,  he  resolved  to  try  his  fortunes  in 
another  part  of  the  world.  Always  quick  to  put  any  plan  into 
operation,  he  lost  no  time  in  discussing  unnecessary  details,  but, 
collecting  together  all  the  ready  money  he  could  command,  he 
placed  it  in  the  hands  of  his  agent  to  buy  tickets  for  Australia. 
Arrived  in  that  far  distant  colony,  he  found  that  he  had  in  it 
no  friend  or  acquaintance  save  the  eccentric  Sir  William  Don, 
whom  he  had  known  while  managing  the  "  Southern  Circuit," 
in  the  United  States.  In  the  mean  time  the  Baronet  had  gone 
to  Australia,  and,  having  greatly  improved  in  his  acting,  had 
achieved  much  distinction  and  money.  He  was  in  very  poor 
health,  however,  his  generous  and  reckless  manner  of  life  hav- 
ing begun  to  tell  upon  him,  and  shortly  after  arriving  in  the 
colony  Mr.  Jefferson  was  sorrowed  by  the  announcement  of 
his  death.  Three  days  afterward,  while  in  Sydney,  the  letter 
having  crossed  him  on  the  way,  he  received  a  note  from  Sir 
William  warmly  welcoming  him  to  Australia,  and  proffering 
every  possible  service.  This  was,  of  course,  the  last  that  Mr. 
Jefferson  ever  heard  of  his  old  friend.  He  remembers  him  as 
one  of  the  remarkable  characters  of  his  time — a  man  with  a 
heart  large  in  proportion  to  his  giant  frame ;  naturally  a  good 
actor,  but  one  who,  having  commenced  too  late  in  life,  never 
could  entirely  rid  himself  of  the  manners  of  the  amateur.  In 
private  life  he  is  spoken  of  as  having  been  the  soul  of  wit  and 
generosity. 

Naturally  enough,  his  death,  under  the  circumstances,  was  a 
double  blow  to  Jefferson.  Still,  it  was  not  the  nature  of  that 
gentleman  to  despair,  and  though,  as  has  already  been  said,  he 
had  no  friend  in  all  Australia,  he  still  set  about  securing  an 
opening.  After  careful  inquiry  he  found  that  the  only  way  to 
do  this  advantageously  was  to  engage  a  company  and  theatre 
of  his  own.     To  carry  out  this  project  he  applied  to  his  agent 


A  Lifetime  on  the  Stage.  385 

for  the  funds  which  he  had  intrusted  to  his  keeping  in  Califor- 
nia. At  this  demand  the  agent  seemed  to  be  exceedingly  and 
mysteriously  troubled,  but  after  a  time  he  succeeded  in  getting 
a  theatre  and  a  company.  Subsequently  Mr.  Jefferson  learned 
that  his  trouble  grew  out  of  the  fact  that,  instead  of  converting 
his  employer's  money  into  Australian  exchange,  as  he  had  been 
directed  to  do,  he  had  lost  it  at  a  gaming-table  before  leaving 
San  Francisco.  Still,  by  hook  or  crook,  he  managed  to  make 
good  the  loss,  and  at  last  Mr.  Jefferson  was  able  to  open  his 
theatre  in  Sydney.  He  succeeded  almost  from  the  first ;  such 
success,  when  it  is  remembered  that  he  came  to  the  colonies 
comparatively  unannounced  and  unknown,  being  in  marked 
contrast  to  the  failure  of  his  widely  advertised  engagement  in 
California.  Mr.  Jefferson  remained  in  Australia  four  years, 
playing  in  the  English  comedies  with  the  greatest  success.' 
This  triumph  must  be  regarded  as  all  the  more  gratifying  to 
him  when  it  is  remembered  that  some  of  the  best  legitimate 
actors  in  the  world  are  to  be  found  in  Australia.  Many  of 
them  at  first  went  there  from  England  as  "  stars,"  but  after- 
ward, liking  the  country,  and  not  always  having  the  oppor- 
tunity to  make  the  long  return  voyage  to  England,  they,  re- 
mained, and  were  contented  to  take  positions  in  stock  com- 
panies.    Hence  the  excellence  of  those  organizations. 

It  is  noticeable  that  while  in  the  colonies  and  at  Hobart  Town 
Mr.  Jefferson  played  Bob  Brierly  to  an  audience  which  included 
nearly  seven  hundred  ticket-of-leave  men.  At  first  he  found 
no  favor  with  them,  but  as  the  play  progressed  his  performance 
was  rewarded  with  shouts  of  approval. 

Leaving  Australia  with  many  regrets,  Mr.  Jefferson,  who  dur- 
ing all  this  time  had  been  steadily,  though  quietly  and  by  de- 
grees, growing  in  reputation,  fortune,  and  power  as  an  actor, 
went  to  New  Zealand  and  South  America;  and  from  Panama 
went  to  England,  without  touching  at  any  United  States  port. 

17 


386  Twelve  Americans. 


IV 

"RIP  VAN  WINKLE." 

It  was  during  this  visit,  and  while  in  London,  that  he  met 
Dion  Boucicault,  and  arranged  with  him  to  make  certain  alter- 
ations and  improvements  in  the  drama  of  "Rip  Van  Winkle." 
The  old  version  of  this  play  he  had  already  appeared  in  with 
success,  and  his  idea  was  to  make  the  part  of  Rip  stronger, 
more  prominent  and  effective  than  it  was  originally,  and  then 
to  adopt  it  as  one  of  his  chief  roles.  Boucicault  entered  upon 
his  plans  with  enthusiasm,  and,  with  the  understanding  that  he 
should  receive  a  royalty  for  his  work,  made  substantially  the 
drama  with  which  Mr.  Jefferson's  name  is  now  most  promi- 
nently identified.  The  royalty  then  agreed  upon,  together 
with  the  purchase -money  subsequently  paid,  netted  to  the 
playwright  more  than  $20,000.  The  success  which  Mr.  Jef- 
ferson achieved  with  the  new  piece  in  London  was  at  the  time 
regarded  as  almost  unprecedented.  It  must  be  remembered 
that  he  was  not  known  in  England.  He  appeared  there  en- 
tirely upon  his  merits  and  the  merits  of  his  play.  Those  who 
had  seen  him  play  were,  of  course,  fully  aware  that  his  power 
as  a  comedian  was  remarkable ;  yet  they  knew  also  that  his 
methods  were  entirely  strange  to  English  audiences  —  au- 
diences, by-the-way,  which  usually  are  not  pleased  by  innova- 
tions— and  there  was  on  every  side  universal  acknowledgment 
that  the  drama  in  which  he  was  to  appear  dealt  with  subjects 
and  traditions  for  which  the  English  people  might  well  be  ex- 
cused if  they  had  neither  sympathy  nor  interest.  Making  the 
most  of  these  and  similar  facts,  more  than  one  of  the  well- 
informed  leaders  in  the  theatrical  world  of  London  freely  pre- 
dicted the  failure  of  the  American  player. 

It  was  under  these  circumstances  that  Jefferson,  on  the  4th 
of   September,   1865,  made   his   London   debut   as  Rip  Van 


A  Lifetime  on  the  Stage.  387 

Winkle.  The  adverse  predictions  which  have  been  mentioned 
were  not  realized.  On  the  contrary,  from  the  night  of  his 
opening  the  comedian  succeeded  beyond  his  most  sanguine 
expectations,  and  for  one  hundred  and  fifty  consecutive  nights 
"  Rip  Van  Winkle  "  was  played  by  him  to  crowded  houses. 
Regarding  the  performance  volumes  were  written  by  the  Eng- 
lish Press.  The  following  extract  from  the  London  Times  will 
serve  as  a  fair  illustration  of  the  warmth  with  which  Mr.  Jef- 
ferson was  received  :  "  Reopening  the  Adelphi  Theatre  for  the 
winter  season,  Mr.  Webster  has  the  good-fortune  to  introduce 
to  the  London  public  one  of  the  most  original,  and  at  the 
same  time  finished,  actors  ever  seen  upon  any  stage.  We  refer, 
of  course,  to  Mr.  Jefferson,  whose  merits  have  been  acknowl- 
edged by  a  crowded  audience  with  that  sort  of  hearty  and 
sustained  approbation  which  the  practised  ear  can  as  readily 
distinguish  from  spurious  applause  as  the  experienced  touch 
can  detect  the  superiority  of  the  silver  coin  over  the  imitation 
in  base  metal.  Nor  is  an  iota  of  the  admiration  bestowed  upon 
Mr.  Jefferson  to  be  attributed  to  the  high  reputation  he  has 
acquired  in  the  United  States.  American  fame  is  not  more 
certain  of  circulation  than  an  American  greenback  ;  indeed, 
the  offspring  of  so  many  laboring  mountains  on  the  other  side 
of  the  Atlantic  have  proved  to  be  such  very  small,  if  not  such 
very  ridiculous,  mice  when  shipped  to  London,  that  we  are  in- 
clined to  look  with  some  suspicion  on  testimonials  to  histrionic 
genius  signed  by  our  enthusiastic  cousins.  *  *  *  Mr.  Jefferson 
does  not  rely  upon  these  or  upon  any  other  species  of  indorse- 
ment ;  he  exacts  applause  and  success  in  '  Rip  Van  Winkle '  by 
the  force  of  his  own  merit."  j 

Regarding  Mr.  Jefferson's   manner   of  acting,  the   London 
Standard,  on  the  day  after  his  first  appearance,  with  nice  dis- 
crimination, wrote  as  follows :  "  The  success  of  the  actor  was 
even  greater  than  that  of  the  drama.     Mr.  Jefferson  enjoys  a 
,very  high  reputation  in  America,  and  holds  the  first  rank  as  an 


388  Twelve  Americans. 

artist  Id  a  peculiar  line.  The  natural  ease  of  his  manner  is  sur- 
prising, and  his  style  is  exceedingly  simple  and  free  from  elab- 
oration. There  is  not  the  slightest  tendency  to  exaggeration 
in  anything  he  does  or  says,  and  it  was  really  astonishing  to 
observe  the  effect  he  produced  on  an  audience  who  are  accus- 
tomed to  breathe  the  very  atmosphere  of  extravagance  and 
caricature.  The  drunken  sot — good-natured  at  heart,  and  fond 
of  everything  but  his  wife,  whose  ill-temper  worries  him  and 
makes  him  a  vagabond — was  sustained  with  marvellous  skill 
throughout  the  first  act,  not  a  point  in  the  detail  being  lost 
sight  of ;  while  the  semblance  of  old  age,  in  the  last  act,  was 
even  more  striking,  and  had  only  one  fault — that  it  was  too 
real  and  occasionally  overpowering  in  the  intensity  of  its  feel- 
ing. Some  touches  of  pathos,  indeed,  were  worthy  of  any  ac- 
tor we  ever  saw."  The  Pall  Mall  Gazette,  in  the  same  strain, 
said:  "And  for  once  we  have  a  real  actor  to  welcome  to  our 
boards  —  an  actor  whose  range  may  possibly  be  limited,  but 
whose  execution  within  that  range  surpasses  anything  to  be 
seen  on  our  stage,  and  can  only  be  found  equalled  in  some  of 
the  French  theatres." 

Encouraged  by  such  praise  as  this,  and  being  continually  re- 
warded with  very  full  houses,  Mr.  Jefferson  remained  in  Eng- 
land for  a  number  of  months,  and  might  with  profit  have  re- 
mained much  longer.  But  at  this  time  he  had  been  absent 
from  America  for  nearly  sev-en  years,  and,  after  a  stay  on  the 
Continent,  he  decided  to  return  to  his  home.  It  was  during 
this  Continental  tour,  by-the-way,  and  while  idling  in  Paris, 
that  he  acquired  that  fondness  for  landscape-painting  by  a  de- 
votion to  which  he  has  since  won  much  distinction  in  a  second 
field  of  art.  Many  of  his  recent  pictures  are  pronounced  by 
the  ablest  critics  to  have  great  merit  and  originality,  and  both 
in  European  and  American  galleries  his  works  have  been  great- 
ly admired.  He  now  devotes  much  of  his  time  to  painting, 
and  even  the  layman  can  perceive  that  he  handles  his  brush 


A  Lifetime  on  the  Stage.  389 

with  as  much  delicacy  and  lightness,  yet  firmness  and  distinct- 
ness of  touch,  as  he  portrays  on  the  mimic  stage  those  char- 
acters which  have  made  him  famous.  But,  as  has  been  inti- 
mated, even  his  fondness  for  art  and  his  liking  for  the  ar- 
tistic atmosphere  of  Paris  could  not  keep  his  thoughts  from 
America.  He  returned  to  this  country,  taking  with  him  the 
best  wishes  of  Bancroft,  Toole,  and  other  celebrated  English 
actors,  for  whose  kindness  he  is  still  most  grateful.  Shortly 
after  arriving  in  New  York  he  opened  in  "  Rip  Van  Winkle," 
at  the  Olympic  Theatre,  and  was  at  once  very  successful.  Sub- 
sequently he  played  the  memorable  engagement  at  Booth's 
Theatre,  during  which  "Rip"  was  performed  on  one  hundred 
and  fifty  successive  nights. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  the  comedian  Holland  died.  He 
had  been  a  friend  of  Jefferson,  and  that  gentleman,  with  a  son 
of  the  dead  actor,  waited  on  a  certain  distinguished  divine  in 
New  York  to  ask  if  he  would  preach  the  funeral  sermon. 

"  Certainly,  sir,  certainly,"  was  the  response  of  the  clergy- 
man. 

"But,"  continued  Mr.  Jefferson,  "it  may  be  well  to  tell  you 
that  the  dead  man  was  an  actor — if  that  would  make  any  dif- 
ference— " 

"  It  would  make  a  difference,  sir — it  would  make  a  decided 
difference,"  interposed  the  preacher.  "But  there  is  a  little 
church  round  the  corner  where  they  attend  to  affairs  of  that 
sort." 

"Well,  then,  God  bless  the  little  church  round  the  corner! 
say  I,"  was  Jefferson's  exclamation  as  he  departed. 

This  was  the  incident  which  gave  to  one  of  the  churches  of 
New  York  a  name  which  is  now  familiar  in  all  parts  of  the 
country. 

It  was  at  this  time  also  that  there  occurred  the  great  Holland 
benefit,  one  of  the  most  remarkable  theatrical  performances  ever 
Avitnessed.     It  was  taken  part  in  by  some  of  the  most  distin- 


390  Twelve  Americans. 

guished  actors  known  to  the  English-speaking  stage.  Among 
the  rest  were  Edwin  Booth  and  Fechter ;  Jefferson,  who  played 
Golightly,  in  "  Lend  Me  Five  Shillings  ;"  Janauschek,  in  an  act 
of  "  Macbeth ;"  Frederick  Robinson,  in  "The  Vagabonds ;"  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Barney  Williams,  and  a  host  of  others.  Indeed,  Mr. 
Jefferson  believes  that  the  number  of  great  actors  assembled 
on  that  occasion  was  only  equalled  at  the  Compton  benefit,  in 
London,  when  there  appeared  Mr.  Phelps  and  Mrs.  Kendall,  as 
Sir  Peter  and  Lady  Teazle ;  Benjamin  "Webster,  as  Graves,  in 
the  will  scene  of  "  Money ;"  Mr.  Irving,  in  a  recitation ;  Jeffer- 
son, as  Golightly ;  Charles  Mathews,  as  Puff,  in  "  The  Critic ;" 
and  Mr.  Bancroft,  Mrs.  John  Wood,  and  others  of  almost  equal 
distinction  taking  minor  parts. 

Regarding  the  recent  years  of  Mr.  Jefferson's  career  it  is, 
perhaps,  needless  to  write.  Nearly  ever  since  his  return  to 
America  he  has  occupied  his  time  in  playing  "Rip  Van  Win- 
kle," and  Bob  Acres,  in  "  The  Rivals,"  to  the  very  largest  au- 
diences— his  last  season  in  New  York  being  the  best  he  has  ever 
had — and  in  painting :  principally  the  landscape  scenery  in  the 
vicinity  of  his  plantation  on  the  Bayou  Teche,  in  Louisiana. 
Still,  and  despite  his  passion  for  the  latter  comparatively  new 
occupation,  he  takes  the  liveliest  interest  in  everything  which 
pertains  to  the  stage,  either  here  or  abroad.  Many  of  his  views 
regarding  his  profession  possess  both  interest  and  importance. 
For  instance,  he  is  not  a  believer  in  sudden  successes,  though 
no  man  is  more  convinced  that  the  art  of  acting  is  quite  as 
much  a  gift  as  that  of  painting  or  music.  Still,  he  freely  ex- 
presses the  opinion  that  lasting  fame  as  an  actor  can  only  be 
attained  after  many  years  of  hard  work  and  careful  study. 

Upon  the  subject  "  Success  on  the  Stage  "  he  published,  in 
The  North  American  Review  for  December,  1882,  the  follow- 
ing characteristic  paper: 

"It  is  asked,  What  are  the  qualifications  that  one  should  possess  to  be- 
come a  successful  actor  or  actress  ?    This  is  a  difficult  question  to  answer. 


A  Lifetime  on  the  Stage.  391 

What  would  be  the  reply  of  a  scientist,  if  you  were  to  ask  him  what  were 
the  qualifications  necessary  to  become  a  successful  astronomer  or  a  great 
naturalist  ?  I  fancy  I  see  the  old  gentleman  now.  He  removes  his  spec- 
tacles, and,  thoughtfully  rubbing  his  nose,  looks  at  the  questioner  as  if  he 
were  a  long  way  off.  He  says, '  Well,  really,  I — I —  Dear  me  !  will  you  just 
say  that  over  again?'  You  repeat  the  query.  'Well,'  he  says, '  perhaps 
inborn  ability  may  be  of  some  service ;  and  then,  I  should  think  that  a 
great  love,  even  a  passion,  for  such  a  calling,  might  be  valuable  ;  but  even 
these  advantages,  and  a  great  many  more  that  I  can't  think  of,  will  be  of 
very  little  use  unless  they  are  joined  to  earnestness  and  industry.' 

"  Now,  I  would  say  that,  in  addition  to  these  qualities,  to  make  a  suc- 
cessful actor,  one  must  be  gifted  with  sensibility,  imagination,  and  per- 
sonal magnetism.  The  art  must  be  commenced  at  the  foundation,  or  the 
superstructure  can  scarcely  stand.  The  student  should  be  content  to  en- 
ter upon  the  lower  walks  of  the  profession,  and  this  is  his  first  stumbling- 
block,  because  the  lower  positions  are  erroneously  considered  to  be  de- 
grading. But  to  'carry  a  banner'  is  necessary,  and  is  certainly  not  de- 
grading, to  a  beginner  in  the  art  of  acting.  All  professions  require  that 
the  student  shall  master  the  drudgery  of  his  calling.  Before  the  astron- 
omer makes  his  great  discoveries  he  must  have  learned  arithmetic.  The 
distinguished  savant  has  mastered  the  elements  of  his  specialty.  The  fa- 
mous chemist  tries  the  most  simple  experiments,  and  has  not  hesitated  to 
soil  his  hands  in  the  laboratory.  This  simple  drudgery  is  the  key  to  the 
dramatic  profession,  yet  the  thought  of  it  affrights  the  tyro ;  and  how 
natural  that  it  should  do  so,  for  all  the  apparently  degrading  offices  of 
other  occupations  are  performed  in  private ;  but  on  the  stage  the  per- 
sonal mortification  has  to  be  borne  in  the  full  glare  of  the  public,  and, 
still  worse,  in  the  presence  sometimes  of  friends  and  relations  who  have 
come  expressly  to  see  how  '  our  John '  will  act  his  part.  Poor  John ! 
How,  inwardly,  for  the  first  time,  he  wishes  his  friends  and  relations  were 
— somewhere  else !  He  had  rather  the  whole  world  had  been  there  than 
that  small  family  party,  who  themselves  are  indignant  at  the  manager 
for  giving  their  relative  such  a  little  thing  to  do.  And  to  think  that  this 
same  mortification  has  to  be  repeated  night  after  night,  perhaps  season 
after  season !  Do  you  not  recognize  other  qualities  that  must  now  sup- 
port him  ?  Should  he  not  have  nerve  and  fortitude  ?  And  how  seldom  these 
are  coupled  with  sensibility  and  imagination !  By  many  failures  he  may 
learn  to  succeed,  and  thus  find  out  what  not  to  do,  rather  than  what  to  do. 

"  This,  of  course,  is  the  darkest  side  of  the  picture ;  for  though  the  suc- 
cesses by  persons  going  upon  the  stage  without  experience  have  been  of  rare 
occurrence,  still  we  cannot  deny  that  there  have  been  several  exceptions 
to  place  against  the  many  failures.  But  how  small  is  the  list !  If  all  the 
failures  could  be  collected,  the  line  would  '  stretch  out  to  the  crack  of  doom.' 

"  But  to  return  to  the  dramatic  aspirant.  We  all  know  the  young  man 
who  calls  after  our  early  dinner — say  about  four  o'clock,  just  as  we  are 


392  Twelve  Americans. 

going  to  take  our  sacred  nap — and  craves  our  confidence.  He  fears  his 
family  will  offer  very  serious  objections  to  his  entering  the  theatrical 
profession,  and  of  course,  for  their  sake  as  well  as  his  own,  he  could  not 
think  of  holding  a  subordinate  position.  It  is  true  he  has  failed  as  a  hat- 
ter, and  his  success  in  upholstery  did  not  seern  to  place  him  in  a  position 
to  be  entirely  punctual  in  the  payment  of  his  board.  But  he  felt  that  he 
had  that  within  him  that  could  accomplish  Hamlet.  Such  young  persons 
should  remember  that  some  of  the  greatest  actors  have  commenced  by 
holding  inferior  positions.  Many  have  failed  year  after  year,  and  been 
utterly  discouraged,  until  some  fortunate  character  has  brought  out  the 
latent  strength  within  them. 

"My  remarks  must  necessarily  be  general,  for  the  value  of  any  particu- 
lar advice  given  to  a  person  depends  much  upon  that  person's  nature,  his 
capabilities,  and  how  far  he  has  advanced. 

"  Some  actors  are  inspirational  and  inventive ;  others,  again,  require 
everything  to  be  clearly  mapped  out,  and  a  thorough  plan  of  action  ar- 
ranged before  they  begin.  The  greatest  excellence  is  attained  when  the 
mechanism  forms  the  groundwork  and  base  of  the  inspiration.  If  they 
go  hand-in-hand  a  harmonious  performance  is  sure  to  be  the  result. 

"  If  you  are  unsuccessful  as  a  poet,  a  painter,  an  architect,  or  even  a 
mechanic,  it  is  only  your  work  that  has  failed ;  but  with  the  actor  it  does 
not  end  here :  if  he  be  condemned,  it  is  himself  that  has  failed.  Then, 
too,  he  is  present,  and  is  the  personal  witness  of  the  public's  censure  and 
his  own  mortification.  He  cannot,  like  the  painter,  rub  out  his  work,  or 
alter  and  improve  it  before  it  goes  to  the  exhibition.  The  bad  effect  an 
actor  has  produced  must  stand  against  him.  How  necessary,  then,  it  is 
that  a  clear  and  effective  outline  of  his  character  should  be  sketched  out 
and  fully  arranged  before  he  exposes  himself  to  this  ordeal,  or  insults  his 
audience  by  an  undefined  jumble  of  ineffective  work ! 

"  The  study  of  gesture  and  elocution,  if  taken  in  homoeopathic  doses  and 
with  great  care,  may  be  of  service ;  but  great  effects  can  only  be  produced 
by  great  feeling,  and  if  the  feeling  be  true  and  intense  the  gesture  and 
the  elocution  must  obey  it.  It  is  safer,  however,  to  study  gesture  and  elo- 
cution than  to  study  nothing.  Better  be  pedantic  and  mechanical  than 
indefinite  and  careless.  The  one  at  least  always  shows  a  desire  to  please, 
while  the  other  is  insulting  to  an  audience  ;  and  I  don't  believe  that  audi- 
ences ever  forgive  carelessness.  Besides,  elocution  will  at  least  assist  one 
in  articulation,  and  this  important  adjunct  is  too  often  slighted  on  the  stage. 

"  Look  at  an  audience  during  a  play,  and  you  will  see  that  many  are 
leaning  forward,  with  an  expression  on  their  faces  as  though  they  were 
hopelessly  seeking  for  information.  They  seem  care-worn  and  unhappy. 
This  despair  occurs  generally  in  the  earlier  scenes,  when  the  spectators 
are  not  all  in  their  seats,  and  attention  is  difficult  because  of  the  noise  of 
folding-chairs ;  the  rustle  of  Mr.  Worth's  silk  dresses ;  the  sudden  desire 
to  consult  the  play-bills,  to  discover  what  theatre  royal  has  lately  been 


A  Lifetime  on  the  Stage.  393 

robbed  of  its  artistic  treasures ;  and,  above  all,  the  bobbing  about  of  the 
late  lamented  Duchess  of  Gainsborough's  irrepressible  hat ;  for,  though 
we  are  told  that  this  graceful  article  forms  a  fine  background  to  a  lovely 
face,  it  is  a  bad  foreground  to  a  comedy.  Now,  as  these  difficulties  are 
unavoidable  and  will  occur,  tbe  actor  must  show  his  generalship  and  meet 
the  foe.  Instead,  therefore,  of  beginning  work  in  a  timid,  inane,  and  in- 
different way,  he  should  use  precision,  strength,  articulation,  and  force, 
even  beyond  the  requirements  of  the  scene,  in  order  that  he  may  get  the 
confidence  of  the  audience,  and,  through  this,  their  attention. 

"  I  have  given  no  details  here,  because  they  could  not  be  stated  in  writ- 
ing. The  few  generalities  that  I  have  written  are  the  result  of  my  expe- 
rience, which,  I  dare  say,  will  widely  differ  from  that  of  others  who  may 
write  on  the  same  subject.  To  those  who  may  wish  to  follow  the  theatri- 
cal profession,  and  who  have  an  earnest  desire,  beyond  the  exhibition  of 
their  own  vanity,  to  study  the  art  of  acting  for  its  sake,  rather  than  for 
their  own,  I  should  desire  to  give  all  the  information  in  my  power ;  but 
to  those  who,  having  nothing  else  to  do,  and  who  desire  to  go  upon  the 
stage  for  amusement,  I  would  give  the  same  advice  that  Punch  did  to 
people  about  to  marry — '  Don't.'  " 

As  to  his  own  career  upon  the  stage,  Mr.  Jefferson,  to  inti- 
mate friends,  with  characteristic  frankness,  says  that  there  have 
been  really  no  marked  epochs  in  it.  He  is  not  one  of  the  men 
who  on  waking  up  in  the  morning  suddenly  found  himself 
famous.  His  progress  has,  to  himself  at  least,  been  almost  im- 
perceptible ;  and  he  believes  that  he  owes  his  position  in  the 
theatrical  world  quite  as  much  to  the  hard,  ceaseless  work  and 
close,  constant  application  to  which  he  has  for  so  many  years 
subjected  himself,  as  to  any  gifts  of  nature.  As  to  his  methods 
as  an  actor,  he  will  only  say  that  he  believes  the  performer,  like 
the  painter,  should  place  himself  behind  the  picture  and  be 
seen  through  it,  so  to  speak.  He  should  never  fall  into  the 
error  of  obscuring  his  picture  by  his  own  personality.  Living 
up  to  this  high  standard,  as  Mr.  Jefferson  has  certainly  tried 
hard  to  do,  he  is  to-day  beyond  all  question  one  of  the  first 
actors  of  his  time.  In  his  own  peculiar  roles  he  has  not  now, 
and  it  is  scarcely  possible  that  he  ever  will  have,  an  equal. 
His  greatness  as  an  actor  is  surpassed  only  by  his  gentleness, 
generosity,  and  goodness  as  a  man. 

17* 


The  Watch-dog  of  the  Treasury. 


a 


a^|l||i|i«i 


ELIHU    B.  WASHBURNE. 


"  The  Watch-dog  of  the  Treasury." 


ELIHU   B.WASHBURNE. 


IF   "BLOOD  WILL   TELL." 

If  it  be  true  of  men  that  "  blood  will  tell,"  the  success  in 
life  achieved  by  Elihu  B.  Washburne,  who  was  a  farmer's  boy, 
a  printer's  apprentice ;  who  has  been  a  lawyer,  statesman,  diplo- 
mate — a  man  of  much  distinction — is  to  a  great  extent  account- 
ed for  in  advance.  He  is  descended  directly  from  John  Wash- 
burn, the  first  Secretary  of  the  Council  of  Plymouth.  His  fa- 
ther, Israel  Washburn,  was  a  native  of  Massachusetts,  a  man 
of  sterling  integrity,  who  removed  to  "  the  District  of  Maine  " 
in  1806,  and  in  1809  settled  at  Livermore,  Oxford  County, 
where  he  died,  in  September,  1876,  at  the  age  of  ninety-two 
years.  The  father  of  this  patriarch,  and  the  grandfather  of 
Elihu  B.  Washburne,  was  Israel  Washburn,  of  Raynham,  Mas- 
sachusetts, a  soldier  of  the  Revolution.  He  was  a  typical  New 
Englander  of  the  time,  combining  many  characteristics  of  the 
Puritans  and  Pilgrim  Fathers.  He  was  a  tall,  raw-boned,  large- 
framed  man,  and,  even  in  his  old  age,  straight  and  strong. 
After  the  war  he  became  a  farmer,  was  industrious  and  frugal, 
united  a  sound  intelligence  with  rare  common-sense,  and  added 
to  an  inflexible  honesty  the  strictest  ideas  of  justice.  His  name 
was  the  synonyme  for  truth  and  honor,  but  withal  he  was  a  man 
of  much  sternness  and  severity,  usually  talked  but  little,  yet  at 
times  was  vigorous,  even  vehement,  in  his  address.     Mr.  Wash- 


396  Twelve  Americans. 

burne's  mother  was  a  daughter  of  Samuel  Benjamin,  who  de- 
scended directly  from  the  Pilgrim  Fathers,  and  whose  services 
in  the  Revolutionary  war  are  well  recounted  in  the  following 
quaint  document,  written  one  hundred  years  ago : 

11  The  declaration  of  Lieutenant  Benjamin,  made  for  the  purpose  of  obtain- 
ing a  pension:  I,  Samuel  Benjamin,  a  resident  and  citizen  of  the  United 
States  of  America,  and  inhabitant  of  Livermore,  in  the  County  of  Oxford 
and  State  of  Massachusetts,  on  oath,  declare  that  from  the  battle  of  Lex- 
ington, April  19,  1775,  in  which  I  was  engaged,  I  was  in  the  Continental 
service  in  the  Revolutionary  war,  without  ever  leaving  said  service  even 
so  much  as  one  day,  till  the  6th  day  of  August,  a.d.  1782.  I  served  the 
eight  months'  service  in  1775,  at  Cambridge,  in  said  State.  In  1776,  as 
soon  as  the  British  left  Boston,  we  marched  to  Ticonderoga,  where  my 
year's  service  expired ;  and  on  the  1st  of  January,  1777,  I  received  from 
John  Hancock,  President  of  the  Continental  Congress,  an  Ensign's  com- 
mission, which  is  hereunto  annexed,  and  continued  to  serve  under  said 
commission  in  Captain  Ebenezer  Cleveland's  company,  Colonel  Michael 
Jackson's  regiment  in  the  Massachusetts  line,  in  the  army  of  the  United 
Colonies,  on  the  Continental  establishment,  till  I  received  a  commission  of 
Lieutenant,  dated  October  7, 1777,  under  which  commission  I  served  in  the 
same  company  abovesaid,  which  company  is  now,  and  has  been  some 
months  previous,  commanded  by  Captain  Silas  Pierce,  in  consequence  of 
the  resignation  of  Captain  Ebenezer  Cleveland,  until  the  6th  day  of  Au- 
gust, a.d.  1782,  when  I  had  liberty  to  leave  the  service,  a  certificate  of 
which,  signed  by  Colonel  Michael  Jackson,  is  also  hereunto  annexed.  My 
commission  of  Lieutenant  I  sent  to  Washington  last  winter,  and  I  have  it 
not  in  my  power.  I  was  in  the  battle  of  Lexington  aforesaid  before  I  en- 
gaged as  a  Continental  soldier,  and  was  afterward  in  the  battle  of  Mon- 
mouth, and  at  the  taking  of  Cornwallis,  and  numerous  other  battles  of 
lesser  magnitude.  I  left  the  service  at  West  Point,  as  will  appear  from 
the  annexed  certificate. 

"  Signed:  Samuel  Benjamin." 

At  the  close  of  the  Revolutionary  war  Lieutenant  Benjamin 
went  to  Livermore,  and  was  one  of  the  earliest  settlers  of  that 
town.  The  first  settler  and  agent  of  the  proprietors  was  Dea- 
con Elijah  Livermore,  after  whom  the  place  was  named.  He 
was  the  grandfather  of  ex -Vice-President,  ex -United  States 
Senator  Hannibal  Hamlin. 

Mr.  Washburne  was  the  third  of  seven  brothers.  The  eldest, 
Israel  Washburne,  Jr.,  was  long  in  public  life  —  ten  years  a 


"  The  Watch-dog  of  the  Treasury."  397 

member  of  Congress  from  Maine,  two  years  Governor  of  that 
State,  and  for  some  twelve  years  Collector  at  Portland.  The 
brother  next  younger  than  Elihu,  Cadwallader  C.  Washburne, 
of  Wisconsin,  represented  that  State  in  Congress  for  ten  years, 
served  during  all  the  war  of  the  Rebellion,  coming  out  as  a 
Major-general  of  volunteers,  and  was  afterward  Governor  of 
Wisconsin.  Another  brother,  Charles  A.  Washburne,  appoint- 
ed by  President  Lincoln,  was  United  States  Minister  to  Para- 
guay for  seven  years.  The  youngest  of  the  family,  General 
William  D.  Washburne,  of  Minnesota,  in  1878  was  elected  to 
Congress  from  that  State. 

Springing  from  such  stock,  Elihu  B.  AVashburne  was  born 
in  Livermore,  Oxford  County,  "  the  District  of  Maine,"  in  Sep- 
tember, 1816.  It  was  not  until  four  years  later  that  Maine 
became  a  State.  His  early  life  had  in  it  nothing  of  adventure, 
and  his  recollections  of  that  time  include  no  startling  incidents. 
But  on  this  account  his  career,  from  his  birth  to  his  majority, 
is  none  the  less  interesting.  The  simple  story  of  his  early  youth 
— filled  as  it  is  with  memories  of  many  vicissitudes,  memories 
of  constant  struggle  to  wring  hard  fare  from  inhospitable  sur- 
roundings, and  illustrating  as  it  does  life  in  New  England  in 
the  olden  time — is  not  only  very  interesting  but  most  instruc- 
tive. 

From  his  earliest  childhood  young  Elihu  was  taught  to  be- 
lieve that  there  is  no  nonsense  in  this  life,  and  that  the  best 
of  men,  unlike  the  Vicar  of  Wakefield,  never  tire  of  being  al- 
ways wise.  His  father  kept  a  small  country  store,  and  he,  as 
early  as  his  seventh  year,  was  taught  to  "  make  himself  general- 
ly useful,"  gathering  chips,  carrying  wood,  picking  stones  from 
off  the  sterile  pasture-land,  driving  cows,  and  doing  many  oth- 
er "chores"  of  the  same  sort.  He  went  to  school  for  a  few 
weeks  in  winter  and  again  for  a  few  weeks  in  summer,  but,  as 
may  readily  be  imagined,  he  learned  very  little.  About  his 
father's   store,  however,  being   a  lad   of  keen   intelligence,  he 


398        '  Twelve  Americans. 

picked  up  much  miscellaneous  and  some  useful  imformation. 
At  that  time  "  the  store  "  of  a  country  town  was  the  one  great 
centre  of  social  intercourse.  There  politics  and  religion  were 
discussed,  and  the  weekly  newspaper  read  to  a  crowd  of  most 
attentive  rustics.  The  Hallowell  Advocate  was  the  sheet  taken 
by  Elihu's  father.  It  was  delivered  by  a  postman  who  once  a 
week  rode  on  horseback  over  his  circuit.  In  addition  to  this 
source  of  information,  which  was  freely  open  to  the  boy  as  he 
grew  older,  there  was  a  small  circulating  library  in  Livermore, 
and  before  he  was  in  his  teens  he  had  read  a  number  of  books 
of  history  and  biography  and  many  volumes  of  romance. 

Working,  reading,  listening,  and  all  the  time  earning  his 
living  by  doing  odd  jobs  about  his  father's  store  and  for  the 
neighbors,  Elihu  continued  to  grow  in  body  and  mind  until,  in 
the  year  1833,  he  was  most  fortunate,  in  the  estimation  of 
himself  and  his  friends,  in  securing  the  position  of  "devil"  in 
the  office  of  the  Christian  Intelligencer,  published  at  Gardiner, 
Maine.  In  this  place  he  learned  rapidly.  In  addition  to  the 
rudiments  of  the  printer's  trade  he  picked  up  many  scraps  of 
valuable  information  ;  and  as  political  discussion  ran  high  at 
the  time,  and  the  office  of  the  paper  was  the  resort  of  the  lo- 
cal party  leaders,  he  soon  became  thoroughly  conversant  with 
all  the  political  talk  and  news  of  the  period.  Taking  his  cue 
from  his  father — who  had  once  in  his  hearing  denounced  An- 
drew Jackson,  the  hero  of  the  Democrats,  as  a  man  utterly  un- 
fit to  be  President,  as  an  officer  who  had  hanged  men  in  Flori- 
da without  warrant  of  law,  and  who  in  New  Orleans, had  tram- 
pled the  rights  of  the  judiciary  under  foot — he  entertained, 
even  at  that  early  age,  a  bitter  dislike  for  the  Democracy — a 
dislike  which  clung  to  him  in  all  his  after-life,  and  which  sub- 
sequently tended  to  make  him  a  leader  in  the  Republican 
Party. 

Of  this  period  in  his  career  Mr.  Washburne  has  since  writ- 
ten, in  a  diary  which  I  have  been  permitted  to  see : 


"  The  Watch-dog  of  the  Treasury."  399 

"  As  time  rolled  on  I  was  quite  pleased  and  contented  in  my  trade.  I 
learned  to  set  type  rapidly,  and  had  also  begun  to  work  a  little  at  the 
press.  I  did  not  consider  that  I  had  to  labor  very  hard,  and  I  had  a  good 
deal  of  leisure  time  to  read  and  study.  I  read  all  the  exchange  papers, 
and  contracted  the  habit  of  newspaper-reading  which  has  not  left  me  to 
this  day.  I  don't  think  I  ever  wasted  an  hour,  but  devoted  myself  entire- 
ly to  the  acquisition  of  knowledge.  To  a  boy  who  is  desirous  of  educating 
himself  there  is  no  better  school  than  a  printing-office.  I  am  satisfied 
that  I  learned  more  in  the  year  I  was  in  the  Intelligencer  office  than  I  ever 
learned  in  any  one  year  of  my  life." 

His  surroundings  at  this  time  in  Gardiner  seem  to  have 
been  quite  as  agreeable  to  him  as  was  his  work.  Upon  this 
point  he  speaks  in  his  diary  as  follows : 

"In  those  days  Gardiner  was  a  high  place,  and  was  relatively  vastly 
more  important  than  it  is  to-day.  Many  men  of  prominence  lived  there, 
politicians  and  men  of  business.  It  was  the  residence  of  George  Evans, 
who  was  a  member  of  Congress  from  that  district.  Maine  has  been  a 
State  fruitful  of  great  men,  and  I  have  always  considered  Mr.  Evans  one 
of  the  greatest  of  them  all.  No  town  in  the  State  had  more  refined  soci- 
ety than  had  Gardiner.  This  was  before  the  era  of  railroads  and  regular 
passenger  steamboats,  and  a  good  deal  of  the  travel  to  Boston  was  in  sail- 
ing-vessels. There  was  a  daily  mail  by  stage  from  Portland  to  Augusta, 
and  the  rattle  of  the  heavy  coach  through  the  streets  of  Gardiner  and  the 
loud  crack  of  the  driver's  whip  was  always  an  event.  *  *  *  My  recollections 
of  that  time  will  always  be  pleasant  ones." 

Unfortunately,  the  boy's  pleasant  occupation  was  not  long 
to  continue.  The  paper  with  which  he  was  connected  failed, 
and  he  was  thrown  upon  the  world  without  employment  or  any 
hope  of  obtaining  another  situation.  Still,  he  did  not  despair ; 
and,  returning  to  the  neighborhood  of  his  home,  by  the  influ- 
ence of  friends,  after  passing  a  severe  examination,  he  was 
selected  to  teach  the  district  school,  his  compensation  being 
ten  dollars  a  month,  and  it  being  stipulated  that  he  was  to 
"  board  around  "  among  the  neighboring  families. 

He  was  barely  eighteen  years  of  age  when  he  entered  upon  the 
duties  of  school-master.  Many  of  his  pupils  were  much  older 
and  stronger  than  himself.  Several  of  them  were  notorious  mis- 
chief-makers;  and  in  the  winter  before,  the  master  had  been 


400  Twelve  Americans. 

turned  bodily  out  of  the  school  by  a  number  of  riotous  pupils, 
and  the  school  itself  closed  up.  By  every  means  in  his  power, 
desiring  to  avoid  a  collision  with  them,  young  "Washburn e  tried 
to  conciliate  his  scholars,  and  for  a  while  succeeded  admirably. 
After  the  second  week,  however,  he  began  to  perceive  symptoms 
of  revolt,  and  made  up  his  mind  that  at  the  first  opportunity 
he  would  give  "  the  big  boys "  who  were  disposed  to  be  im- 
pertinent a  taste  of  his  mettle.  He  soon  had  the  opportunity. 
The  class  was  up  before  him  for  recitation,  when  one  of  the 
stoutest  and  worst  lads  in  school  not  only  declined  to  obey 
his  orders,  but  impertinently  laughed  in  his  face.  With- 
out a  word  W'ashburne  sprang  from  his  place,  and  with  a 
heavy  ruler  beat  the  rebellious  pupil  so  vigorously  over  the 
head  and  shoulders  that  he  soon  cried  for  mercy,  and,  together 
with  others  who  had  been  especially  unruly,  ever  afterward 
submitted  to  discipline  meekly  and  without  dispute.  School- 
master W'ashburne  had  no  farther  trouble  in  maintaining  the 
decorum  of  the  establishment. 

When  his  three  months'  term  as  a  school-teacher  had  closed, 
and  he  had  received  his  thirty  dollars,  he  succeeded,  after  much 
effort,  in  securing  a  place  as  apprentice  in  the  office  of  the  Ken- 
nelec  Journal,  the  leading  Whig  organ  of  the  State.  Regarding 
this  portion  of  his  career  Mr.  Washburne  writes  in  his  journal: 

"It  was  some  time  in  the  early  part  of  May,  1835,  that  I  was  installed 
in  the  Kennebec  Journal  office  as  apprentice.  I  had  served  as  '  devil '  at 
Gardiner,  and  was  now  advanced  one  grade.  Mr.  Severance,  the  editor, 
was  a  practical  printer,  and  set  up  his  own  editorials.  He  was  a  man  of 
remarkable  intelligence,  and  of  very  great  influence  with  the  Whig  Party 
at  that  day.  But,  though  honored  and  revered  by  the  organization,  he 
never  sought  office.  Every  position  which  he  held  was,  in  reality,  thrust 
upon  him.  In  the  summer  of  1835  he  was  nominated  as  one  of  three 
Senators  from  Kennebec  County.  I  well  recollect  his  leaving  the  office  to 
go  to  the  convention  to  report  the  proceedings.  He  had  not  the  slightest 
idea  of  his  own  nomination.  When  he  returned  to  the  office  I  went  to 
where  he  was  and  asked  who  had  been  nominated,  not  thinking  of  him. 
He  answered,  with  a  pleasant  smile,  '  Two  men  and  a  boy,  and  I  am  the 
boy.' 


"  The  Watch-dog  of  the  Treasury."  401 

"  He  was  afterward  elected  to  Congress  from  the  Kennebec  District, 
served  four  years,  and  was  subsequently  appointed  United  States  Minister 
to  the  Sandwich  Islands.  *  *  *  The  State  Legislature  met  at  Augusta  short- 
ly after  my  arrival  there,  and,  as  my  head  was  always  full  of  politics,  I 
managed  to  see  considerable  of  the  members.  At  that  time  both  parties 
sent  their  best  men  to  the  Legislature.  Jonathan  Cilley — afterward  mem- 
ber of  Congress,  and  killed  in  a  duel  by  Graves,  of  Kentucky — was  elected 
Speaker  of  the  House.  I  went  to  his  room  the  evening  after  his  election 
to  get  a  copy  of  the  speech  he  made  in  acknowledging  the  honor.  He  was 
very  polite,  gave  the  document  to  me,  in  his  own  handwriting,  and  I  took 
it  to  the  office  and  set  it  up.  John  Holmes,  Hannibal  Hamlin  (who  was 
several  times  elected  United  States  Senator,  and  who  was  Vice-President 
under  Lincoln),  Virgil  D.  Parris,  and  others  of  note,  were  members  of  the 
Legislature  during  that  year." 

II. 

A  NEW   CAREER. 

Young  Washburn  e,  though  working  very  hard — sometimes 
until  two  or  three  o'clock  in  the  morning,  when  a  tri-weekly 
paper  was  published  during  sessions  of  the  Legislature — had 
what  seemed  to  him  to  be  a  very  pleasant  and  rather  easy  place 
in  the  Kennebec  Journal  office,  and  he  was  hopeful  of  becoming 
most  proficient  in  his  trade,  when  he  was  stricken  by  an  ail- 
ment which  permanently  prevented  him  from  standing  at  the 
"  case."  This  was  a  great  blow ;  but,  trying  to  forget  the 
disappointment,  and  finding  the  one  career  closed  to  him,  he 
quickly  turned  his  attention  to  another.  He  decided  to  study 
law,  and  in  the  spring  of  1836  bade  farewell  to  Augusta  and 
the  Kennebec  Journal,  going,  with  what  little  money  he  had 
scraped  together,  to  the  Kent's  Hill  Seminary,  where  he  intend- 
ed to  study  as  long  as  his  funds  would  hold  out.  It  is  worthy  of 
note  that  Timothy  O.  Howe,  who  was  subsequently  for  a  long- 
time United  States  Senator  from  Wisconsin,  and  afterward 
United  States  Postmaster-General,  was  one  of  his  fellow-students. 

Struggling  along,  frequently  consulting  with  his  brothers  and 
his  family,  sending  letters  by  private  hand,  because  he  could  not 
afford  to  pay  postage,  the  boy  worked  on  to  get  an  education. 


402  Twelve  Americans. 

In  the  winter  of  1836-37  he  studied  Latin  and  French,  read 
continually,  attended  lyceum  lectures,  and  progressed  rapidly. 
After  more  than  a  year  spent  in  this  way  he  entered  the  law- 
office  of  the  Hon.  John  Otis,  a  distinguished  lawyer,  and  mem- 
ber of  Congress,  who  lived  in  "  the  aristocratic  town  of  Hal- 
lowell ;"  and  in  time  that  gentleman  was  so  much  struck  by  his 
diligence,  fidelity,  and  ambition,  that  he  aided  him  pecuniarily, 
and  took  him  into  his  own  family  to  board.  Afterward,  when 
the  young  man  was  fitted  to  do  so,  Mr.  Otis  advanced  him  the 
money  to  enter  the  Cambridge  Law-school.  Before  this,  how- 
ever— in  January,  1838 — the  Whigs  having  a  majority  in  the 
Legislature,  young  Washburne,  urged  by  his  friends,  tried  to 
procure  the  position  of  Assistant  Clerk  to  the  House,  which 
paid  two  dollars  a  day,  and  would  literally  have  been  a  godsend 
to  him.  He  was  defeated  in  this  aspiration,  but  was  given 
some  writing  to  do  by  the  Secretary  of  State — who  subsequent- 
ly became  his  colleague  in  Congress.  In  March,  1839,  he  en- 
tered the  Cambridge  Law-school,  which  was  then  most  popu- 
lar, having  for  its  professors  Mr.  Justice  Story  and  Simon 
Greenleaf,  two  of  the  most  distinguished  jurists  the  country 
ever  produced.  It  was  attended  by  pupils  from  all  over  the 
country.  Many  of  those  who  studied  with  Mr.  Washburne 
have  since  become  noted  men  in  the  nation.  Among  oth- 
ers of  this  class  may  be  mentioned  General  Charles  Devens 
(the  ex-Attorney-General),  ex-Governor  Bullock  (of  Massachu- 
setts), Richard  II.  Dana,  Jr.,  William  Wetmore  Story,  James 
Russell  Lowell,  Judge  Charles  A.  Peabody,  Allen  F.  Owen  (sub- 
sequently a  member  of  Congress  from  Georgia),  and  William 
M.  Evarts,  the  distinguished  ex-Secretary  of  State. 

For  more  than  a  year  the  young  man  pursued  his  studies  at 
Cambridge ;  and  then,  after  passing  a  critical  examination,  and 
having  been  admitted  to  the  Bar,  he  determined  to  cut  loose 
from  his  old  associations,  seek  a  home  in  the  far  West,  and 
make  for  himself  a  competence. 


"  The  Watch-dog  of  the  Treasury."  403 

Gathering  together  what  money  he  could,  and  equipped  hy 
a  careful  mother  with  a  few  articles  of  clothing,  he  set  out  on 
his  journey  for  "  the  West,"  but  with  no  definite  idea  of  what 
point  he  would  ultimately  select  for  settlement. 

On  his  way  to  the  land  of  promise  he  passed  through  Wash- 
ington, and  being  for  the  first  time  thrown  into  the  society 
of  many  distinguished  men,  he  was  naturally  much  impressed. 
Years  afterward,  writing  of  that  first  visit  to  the  capital,  in 
which  he  was  afterward  destined  to  play  so  important  a  part, 
Mr.  Washburne  said : 

"All  was  new  to  me,  and  I  was  vastly  excited  in  what  was  going  on  in 
Congress.  In  the  House  they  had  up  the  New  Jersey  Election  Question,  in 
which  the  Democratic  majority  undertook  to  go  behind  the  broad  seal  of 
the  State.  Very  few  matters  in  Congress  before  or  since  have  ever  created 
such  excitement  in  the  House  or  in  the  country.  I  was  present  on  the  day 
when  they  had  a  most  violent  and  heated  as  well  as  able  discussion.  Mil- 
lard Fillmore  took  a  prominent  part,  and  acquitted  himself  very  ably. 
It  was  then  Whig  against  Democrat,  and  there  was  no  sectional  division. 
Ex-Governor  Pope,  of  Kentucky,  spoke  with  great  power.  Alford,  a  Whig 
member  from  Georgia,  a  rough-hewn  son  of  the  forest,  bore  down  very 
hard  upon  the  '  Tories,'  as  I  then  called  them.  In  the  same  debate  many 
others  participated,  among  them  a  very  curious  old  gentleman  from  one  of 
the  back  districts  of  Pennsylvania,  a  Dr.  Peterkin,  who  wore  a  Quaker  coat 
and  a  long  queue  down  his  back.  Briggs  and  Graves,  of  Kentucky  ;  Hol- 
leman  and  Linn  Banks,  of  Virginia,  also  spoke.  Hunter,  of  Virginia,  was 
Speaker  of  the  House  at  this  time ;  but  he  was  a  poor  presiding  officer, 
and  could  not  'hold  the  House,'  as  we  used  to  say.  Nevertheless,  be  was 
an  able  and  honest  man. 

"The  Senate  of  the  United  States  was  then  in  the  very  zenith  of  its 
power.  Looking  to  the  great  men  who  were  then  members  of  it,  we  may 
well  say  '  there  were  giants  in  those  days.'  Clay,  Webster,  Calhoun,  Ben- 
ton, Preston,  Buchanan,  McDuffie,  Silas  Wright,  are  the  names  of  some  of 
the  Senators  which  occur  to  me  after  the  lapse  of  nearly  thirty-five  years. 
I  can  distinctly  call  to  mind  the  personal  appearance  of  every  one  of  those 
men.  Richard  M.  Johnson  was  then  Vice-President.  He  was  a  bluff  but 
genial  old  Kentuckian,  wearing  a  red  plush  vest,  paying  little  attention  to 
his  dress  generally,  but  of  frank  and  kindly  manners.  He  had  fought  in 
the  Indian  wars,  and  it  was  claimed  that  he  killed  with  his  own  hand  the 
celebrated  Indian  chief,  Tecumseh,  and  so  ran  the  couplet  in  those  days — 

"  'Rumsey,  dumsey, 
Colonel  Johnson  killed  Tecumseh.' 


404  Twelve  Americans. 

"  George  Evans  was  a  member  of  the  House  from  the  Kennebec  District ; 
and,  as  I  had  known  him  well  when  I  was  living  at  Hallowell,  I  addressed 
myself  to  him  when  I  reached  Washington.  He  was  very  kind  to  me,  and 
took  me  up  to  the  White  House  and  introduced  me  to  President  Van  Bu- 
ren.  He  was  a  small,  dapper,  Dutch-looking  man,  with  a  little,  bald  head, 
small  features,  but  with  an  intelligent  countenance.  He  was  courteous 
and  polite,  but  seemed  reserved  and  distant  in  his  manners,  as  it  then 
appeared  to  me." 

But,  pleasant  as  was  this  visit  to  the  capital,  young  Wash- 
burne  was  unable  to  prolong  it.  He  was  soon  reminded,  by 
the  rapid  decrease  in  his  small  hoard  of  money,  that  it  would 
be  necessary  for  him  to  push  on ;  and,  leaving  Washington, 
over  rough  roads  by  slow  stages,  and  making  long  trips  on 
river  steamboats,  he  at  last,  in  the  spring  of  1840,  landed  at 
Galena,  in  Illinois,  the  State  in  which  he  was  afterward  to 
become  famous. 

III. 
IN   THE   GREAT  WEST. 

When  Elihu  B.  Washburne  arrived  in  Galena  as  described, 
a  young  man  in  a  strange  place,  without  friends  or  money,  and 
with  nothing  to  aid  him  except  a  sound  English  education, 
dear-bought  experience,  and  a  strong  will,  no  man  would  have 
had  the  temerity  to  predict  that  he  would,  in  the  time  to 
come,  grow  with  the  growth  of  his  new  home,  and,  keeping 
abreast  with  the  progress  of  the  Great  West,  make  for  himself 
a  name  known  not  only  in  the  nation,  but  throughout  much 
of  the  civilized  world. 

Galena,  at  the  time  in  question,  was  a  town  of  about  eight- 
een hundred  inhabitants,  of  great  business  activity,  and  the 
centre  of  a  large  mining  country.  The  Bar  of  the  town  was 
one  of  the  most  distinguished  in  Illinois ;  and  the  young  East- 
ern lawyer,  commencing  the  practice  of  his  profession  among 
many  keen-wTitted  men,  found  that  he  must  do  his  best  if  he 
would  sustain  himself.     Still  farther  in  his  adopted  State  he 


"  The  Watch-dog  of  the  Treasury.''''  405 

soon  found  abundant  opportunity  for  exercising  the  talent  for 
political  discussion  which,  to  a  large  extent,  came  to  him  by 
hereditary  right.  He  arrived  at  Galena  shortly  after  the  com- 
mencement of  the  memorable  Elarrison  campaign,  and,  being  a 
strong  Whig,  he  made  numerous  speeches  in  support  of  that 
party.  This  service,  doubtless,  did  much  toward  establishing 
his  reputation  as  a  lawyer,  and  gaining  for  him  what  eventu- 
ally proved  to  be  a  lucrative  practice.  In  1844  he  was  made 
a  delegate  to  the  Whig  National  Convention,  which  met  at 
Baltimore,  and  which  Avith  unbounded  enthusiasm  nominated 
to  the  Presidency  that  prince  of  political  leaders,  Henry  Clay. 
To  this  result  he  contributed.  Indeed,  he  was  always  one  of 
Clay's  staunchest,  most  steadfast,  and  at  the  same  time  most 
disinterested  admirers. 

After  the  convention  was  over  he  went  to  Washington, 
to  see  and  congratulate  the  great  Whig  upon  his  nomination. 
He  had  never  before  seen  him,  and  was  as  much  impressed 
with  his  tall  and  striking  figure  as  he  was  by  his  wondrous 
graciousness  and  affability  of  manner.  To  this  day  Mr.  AVash- 
burne  speaks  of  Henry  Clay  as  having  been  courteous  to  a  de- 
gree seldom  witnessed  among  politicians,  but  at  the  same  time 
so  frank,  straightforward,  and  open  in  his  bearing  that  no  man 
could  for  a  moment  believe  his  courtesy  and  affability  were 
assumed  for  political  effect.  He  was  a  gentleman  at  heart, 
genial  and  courteous  by  nature.  After  a  pleasant  interview 
with  him,  his  admiration  much  intensified,  Mr.  Washburne  re- 
turned to  Illinois,  and  in  the  campaign  which  followed  made 
many  speeches  in  favor  of  his  election.  Despite  his  efforts, 
however,  despite  the  efforts  of  other  faithful  Whigs,  Illinois 
went  overwhelmingly  against  Clay  and  in  favor  of  Polk,  "  the 
unknown,"  who  became  President  of  the  United  States. 

During  all  this  time,  and  while  taking  so  active  a  part  in 
politics,  it  must  not  be  assumed  that  Mr.  Washburne  neglected 
his  law  business.     Such  was  not  the  case.     His  practice  in- 


4o6  Twelve  Americans. 

creased  rapidly,  and  he  attended  to  it  faithfully.  He  prac- 
tised not  only  in  his  own  neighborhood,  but  also  in  the  Su- 
preme Court  at  Springfield,  the  State  capital,  making  the  jour- 
ney to  that  place  by  stage-coach,  the  trip  occupying  four  or 
five  days.  Being  thus  absorbed  in  his  profession,  and  devot- 
ing what  spare  time  he  could  to  the  advocacy  of  the  claims  of 
other  men  to  office,  be  never  thought  of  securing  political  po- 
sition for  himself.  In  1848,  however,  he  was  brought  forward 
by  his  friends  as  a  candidate  for  the  nomination  for  Congress 
in  the  Galena  district  —  a  district,  by-the-way,  which  at  that 
time  extended  from  Galena  half-way  to  St.  Louis.  The  nomi- 
nating convention  met  at  Rock  Island,  and  in  it  Colonel 
Baker  (fresh  from  the  Mexican  war,  and  who  had  but  re- 
cently removed  from  Springfield — in  which  district  he  could 
not  hope  to  succeed — for  the  express  purpose  of  being  elected 
to  Congress)  carried  off  the  nomination. 

Notwithstanding  this  defeat,  however,  Mr.  Washburne  de- 
veloped such  strength  in  the  convention  as  to  make  him  more 
than  ever  a  prominent  man  in  the  district.  In  1852  he  was 
again  a  delegate  to  the  National  Whig  Convention,  and  strong- 
ly advocated  and  aided  in  the  nomination  of  General  Scott,  as 
against  the  pro-slavery  influences  of  the  meeting.  Because  of 
this,  when  the  Galena  district  was  re-apportioned  he  was  again 
prominently  mentioned  in  connection  with  the  Congressional 
nomination,  and  was  so  nominated,  running  against  the  Hon. 
Thompson  Campbell,  a  Democrat,  and  the  sitting  member. 
The  district,  as  it  was  re-apportioned,  ran  from  the  Mississippi 
River  to  Lake  Michigan,  and  it  was  supposed  to  be  largely 
Democratic.  At  that  time,  however,  the  Free-soil  excitement 
ran  high.  The  spirit  of  universal  liberty,  which  afterward  re- 
sulted in  universal  emancipation,  had  already  begun  to  make 
itself  felt  in  American  politics ;  and,  as  the  sequel  proved,  the 
Free-soil  Party  held  the  balance  of  power  in  the  Galena  Dis- 
trict.    The  leaders  of  that  party,  because  of  Mr.  Washburne's 


" The  Watch-dog  of  the  Treasury"  407 

position  in  the  Whig  Convention,  and  because  of  Campbell's 
failure  to  keep  certain  pledges  regarding  the  Free-soil  move- 
ment, strongly  supported  the  former.  Washburne  personally 
canvassed  the  district  with  untiring  zeal,  and,  greatly  to  the 
surprise  of  his  opponents  and  the  people  of  the  State,  he  was 
elected  by  a  majority  of  286  votes. 

Going  to  Congress  with  this  record,  and  representing  as  he 
did  what  was  believed  to  have  been  an  overwhelmingly  Demo- 
cratic district,  Mr.  Washburne  was  careful  to  feel  well  his  ground 
before  attempting  to  make  any  display.  He  did  not  believe, 
as  do  many  of  the  young  members  of  to-day,  that  it  was  his 
duty  before  he  had  well  warmed  his  seat  to  make  half  a  dozen 
speeches,  which  had  been  prepared  in  advance  before  a  look- 
ing-glass in  a  private  room.  He  watched  carefully  what  was 
being  done  by  those  around  him,  and,  knowing  well  the  French 
proverb,  may  have  believed  that  "  everything  is  possible  to  the 
man  who  waits."  So  successful  was  he  in  the  first  Congress  to 
which  he  was  elected,  and  so  admirably  did  he  represent,  not 
only  a  party,  but  all  the  people  of  his  district,  that  in  1854, 
when  it  again  became  necessary  to  select  a  Congressman,  he 
was  renominated  by  a  mass  convention  of  Whigs,  Democrats, 
and  Anti-Nebraska  men,  and,  as  a  Republican,  was  re-elected  by 
a  majority  of  over  5000. 

In  the  next  Congress,  the  first  regular  session  of  which  com- 
menced in  1855,  and  which  was  known  as  the  Anti-Nebraska 
Congress,  there  occurred  the  memorable  struggle  for  the  Speak- 
ership, which  resulted  in  the  election  of  Nathaniel  P.  Banks. 
For  him  Mr.  Washburne  voted  fifty-nine  times,  and,  because  of 
his  previous  services,  as  well,  perhaps,  as  of  his  loyalty  to  the 
cause  of  Mr.  Banks,  he  was  made  Chairman  of  the  Committee 
on  Commerce.  In  that  position  he  distinguished  himself  by 
fidelity  to  business  and  a  broad  comprehension  of  the  duties 
of  his  office.  Two  years  later  he  was  re-elected  for  the  third 
successive  term. 


4o8  Twelve  Americans. 

During  the  session  of  that  Congress  there  occurred  the  fight 
on  the  floor  of  the  House  between  Galusha  A.  Grow,  of  Penn- 
sylvania, and  the  South  Carolina  "  fire-eater,"  Lawrence  M. 
Keitt,  which  may  be  regarded  as  the  first  actual  conflict  be- 
tween the  North  and  South,  and  which  can  certainly  be  men- 
tioned as  the  first  indication  given  to  the  South  by  the  North 
that  the  men  of  the  latter  section  would  not  tamely  submit  to 
insult — would,  in  fact,  fight  "to  the  death"  when  they  deemed 
it  their  duty  to  do  so. 

Keitt,  of  South  Carolina,  struck  Grow,  of  Pennsylvania,  as 
he  was  walking  through  the  aisle  of  the  House  of  Representa- 
tives. Both  represented  great  States.  The  South  Carolina 
bully  looked  for  an  easy  conquest.  The  South  Carolina  bully 
was  mistaken.  Grow  returned  the  blow.  For  a  moment  there 
was  consternation  in  the  House.  Then  other  Southern  bullies, 
true  to  their  traditions,  rushed  to  the  aid  of  their  champion 
bully.  But  Mr.  Grow,  to  the  surprise  of  the  Southerners,  was 
not  left  unprotected.  Many  Northern  men,  with  strong  arms, 
rushed  to  his  support.  Foremost  among  them  was  Elihu  B. 
Washburne,  who,  with  sturdy  blows  of  a  fist  developed  by 
hard  toil  upon  a  New  England  farm,  struck  right  and  left  in 
the  just  cause,  and  did  much  to  demonstrate  upon  proud 
Southern  cheeks  that  "Yankee  mud-sills"  could  <%nd  would 
fight. 

This  little  episode  did  Mr.  Washburne  no  harm.  When  the 
election  again  came  round  he  was  once  more  chosen  from  the 
Galena  District  by  an  increased  majority.  In  1860  he  was  re- 
elected, for  the  fifth  successive  time,  by  a  majority  of  13,511 
— the  largest  majority  given  to  any  man  in  that  Congress,  and 
one  of  the  largest  given  to  any  man  who  has  yet  sat  in  the 
United  States  House  of  Representatives. 

In  the  next  Congress,  and  in  those  which  followed  it- — for 
Mr.  Washburne  was  triumphantly  re-elected  term  after  term — 
he,  as  Chairman  of  the  Committee  on  Commerce,  and,  later,  as 


"  The  Watch-dog  of  the  Treasury"  409 

Chairman  of  the  Committee  on  Appropriations,  took  a  most 
prominent  part.  He  was  one  of  the  first  of  the  men  who,  with 
far-sighted  intelligence,  saw  that  the  war  was  not  to  be  for 
"  thirty  days,"  but  might  be  protracted  for  years.  By  his  con- 
stant service  in  the  House  he  had  learned  more  regarding  the 
means  necessary  to  bring  about  legislation  than  had  any  of  his 
associates;  and,  during  all  the  fearful  period  from  1860  to  1865, 
he  was  looked  upon  as  one  of  the  chief  men,  if  not  the  chief 
man,  in  the  national  assembly  who  could  be  relied  upon  at  all 
times  clearly  and  forcibly  to  advocate  the  needs  of  the  soldier 
in  the  field,  and  the  necessity  for  prompt  action  on  the  part 
of  the  civil  authorities.  He  was  also  regarded  as  the  next 
friend  of  President  Lincoln ;  and  it  is  noteworthy  that  it  was 
his  duty,  on  the  part  of  the  House,  to  go  with  Mr.  Seward, 
representing  the  Senate,  to  receive  Mr.  Lincoln  when  he  arrived 
in  Washington  for  the  first  time  after  his  election. 

IV. 
PRESIDENT   LINCOLN  ENTERS  WASHINGTON. 

Concerning  Lincoln's  entry  into  the  capital  at  that  time 
there  has  been  much  misrepresentation  —  misrepresentation 
which  could  only  be  cleared  up  by  Mr.  Washburne.  Briefly 
told,  the  facts  are  as  follows.  It  was  at  first  arranged  by  the 
Republican  managers  who  were  concerned  in  the  journey  of 
the  President-elect  to  the  capital,  and  who,  with  many  other 
good  citizens,  feared  he  would  be  molested,  if  not  assassinated, 
upon  his  way,  that  Mr.  Lincoln  should  leave  Philadelphia  on 
an  ordinary  day  train  and  arrive  at  Washington  in  the  after- 
noon, where  he  was  to  be  received  by  Mr.  Washburne  and  Sen- 
ator Seward.  In  accordance  with  the  same  arrangement  all 
the  telegraph  wires  between  Washington  and  New  York  were 
cut,  and  hence  no  telegraphic  communication  could  be  had. 

At  the  time  appointed  the  two  gentlemen  mentioned  were 

18 


41 Q  Twelve  Americans. 

at  the  depot,  bat,  much  to  their  consternation,  Mr.  Lincoln  was 
not  among  the  passengers  on  the  Philadelphia  train.  With 
the  most  intense  anxiety  they  scrutinized  the  face  of  each  man 
as  he  passed,  and  when  the  last  comer  had  left  the  depot,  Sew- 
ard, in  great  alarm,  turned  to  Washburne  and  said,  excitedly, 

"  My  God  !  he  has  not  come  !     What  can  have  happened  ?'■' 

To  which  Washburne  re-assuringly  replied, 

"  I  can't  imagine ;  but  let  us  hope  for  the  best.  It  is  proba- 
ble that  he  will  be  in  on  the  morning  train." 

"  Will  you  come  down  with  me  and  meet  him  ?"  asked 
Seward. 

"  Yes,  of  course,"  answered  Mr.  Washburne ;  and  shortly  af- 
terward the  two  gentlemen  parted. 

Meanwhile  the  President-elect  was  in  Harrisburg,  and  attend- 
ed a  reception  which  was  given  to  him  in  that  city.  In  the 
course  of  the  evening,  at  about  ten  o'clock,  while  the  festivities 
were  at  their  height,  he  slipped  quietly  away,  and  in  a  close 
carriage  was  conveyed  to  a  special  train  in  waiting  for  him. 
On  this  train  he  was  taken  to  Philadelphia,  there  making  con- 
nection with  the  ordinary  night-train  between  New  York  and 
Washington.  He  boarded  that  train  with  two  companions,  Al- 
lan Pinkerton,  the  detective,  and  Ward  H.  Lamon.  With  these 
gentlemen,  on  the  ordinary  train,  he  proceeded  on  his  way. 

On  the  following  morning,  in  the  gray,  cold  dawn,  Wash- 
burne, faithful  to  his  promise,  was  at  the  old  Baltimore  and 
Ohio  depot.  He  looked  anxiously  for  Seward,  but  Seward  had 
not  arrived.  Fearing  much,  yet  still  hoping,  he  walked  rest- 
lessly up  and  down  the  platform.  Still  Seward  did  not  come. 
At  length  the  train  came  in  sight,  rolled  into  the  depot,  and 
came  to  a  stand-still. 

One  by  one  the  passengers  began  to  alight.  In  almost  an 
agony  of  suspense  Mr.  Washburne  looked  closely  at  each  man's 
face — looked  only  to  be  disappointed,  for  the  face  was  not  that 
of  the  Republican  President-elect. 


'■''The  Watch-dog  of  the  Treasury."  411 

At  last,  when  he  had  almost  relinquished  hope,  he  saw,  from 
his  position  behind  one  of  the  pillars  of  the  station,  three  men 
descend  from  the  sleeping-car.  One  of  them,  tall  and  un- 
gainly, he  at  once  recognized  as  Lincoln.  The  President  was 
not  clad  in  a  Scotch  cap  and  short  cloak,  as  has  been  asserted 
by  a  number  of  writers,  and  as  is  popularly  believed.  He  wore 
a  black  slouched  hat,  a  short  overcoat,  and  his  neck  was  muffled 
in  what  is  known  as  a  woollen  comforter.  As  he  came  down 
the  platform  Mr.  Washburne  hastily  advanced  from  behind 
the  pillar,  and,  extending  his  hand,  said, 

"  Lincoln,  I  am  glad  you  have  got  here  safely." 

As  he  did  so  Lincoln's  companions  rushed  forward,  as  if 
fearing  an  assault ;  but  the  President,  waving  them  back,  said, 
re-assuringly,  and  with  his  own  peculiar  drawl, 

"  Now,  never  mind ;  this  is  all  right ;  it  is  only  my  friend 
Washburne." 

Then,  without  farther  ceremony,  the  four  gentlemen  took  a 
carriage,  which  Mr.  Washburne  had  in  waiting,  and  rode  to 
Willard's  Hotel.  So  it  was  that  Abraham  Lincoln  entered 
Washington  for  the  first  time  after  his  election  to  the  Presi- 
dency. 

Shortly  after  the  arrival  of  the  Presidential  party  at  the 
hotel  Mr.  Seward  came  hurriedly  in.  He  had  overslept  him- 
self, but  was  none  the  less  happy  to  see  that  Mr.  Lincoln  had 
arrived.  When  he  had  made  his  congratulations,  and  it  be- 
came evident  that  the  President-elect,  wearied  by  his  journey, 
desired  for  a  time  to  be  alone,  Senator  Seward  invited  Mr. 
Washburne  to  breakfast  with  him  at  a  later  hour,  and  the  lat- 
ter readily  consented. 

In  connection  with  the  invitation  it  may  be  well  to  recall  the 
fact  that  Mr.  Seward  was  one  of  the  best  livers  in  Washington; 
and,  as  may  not  be  generally  known,  that  he  went  to  market 
himself,  picking  up  all  the  delicacies  which  he  could  find. 

At  breakfast  on  the  morning  in  question   he  was  in  high 


412  Tvjelve  Americans. 

glee,  and  illustrated  the  peculiarly  happy  faculty  which  he  had 
of  looking  upon  the  bright  side  of  things  by  exclaiming, 

"  It's  all  right,  Washburne  !     It's  all  right !" 

"  What  is  all  right  ?"  asked  Washburne. 

"  Why,  Lincoln's  arrival — Lincoln's  arrival.  Everybody  is 
satisfied  with  it.     There  won't  be  a  bit  of  trouble." 

"  Why  do  you  think  so  ?"  asked  Washburne. 

"  Oh,  it's  all  settled,  I  know." 

"  Yes,  but  how  ?"  persisted  Washburne. 

"  Well,"  replied  Seward,  "  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  have  told 
all  the  market-women  that  he  is  here,  and  they  are  all — all  quite 
satisfied;  and,"  he  continued,  "you  may  believe  me, Washburne, 
the  opinion  of  the  market-women  very  thoroughly  indicates  the 
drift  of  public  sentiment.     I  tell  you,  it's  all  right." 

Unfortunately,  as  it  is  perhaps  needless  to  state,  Mr.  Seward's 
hopeful  expectations,  based  upon  the  opinions  of  the  market- 
women,  were  not  realized.  Lincoln  was  inaugurated,  it  is  true, 
without  bloodshed,  but  soon  afterward  the  war  came  on,  and 
everything  was  very  far  from  being  "all  right"  in  Washington. 

During  the  terrible  years  which  followed,  Mr.  Washburne 
was  a  foremost  figure  in  the  council  chamber  of  the  nation. 
He  was  again  and  again  re-elected  to  Congress,  till  at  last,  by 
reason  of  the  length  of  his  continuous  service,  he  became  the 
"  Father  of  the  House."  In  that  capacity  he  swore  in  Schuy- 
ler Colfax  as  Speaker  on  three  different  occasions,  and  swore  in 
Mr.  Speaker  Blaine  once.  In  the  enactment  of  all  the  urgent 
war  legislation  of  the  time  he  took  prominent  part,  and  it  can 
with  all  truth  be  said  that  no  man  attended  more  carefully  to 
the  business  of  the  session,  no  man  was  more  continuously  in 
his  seat,  no  man  ever  fought  more  persistently  every  effort  of 
the  "Lobby,"  than  did  Elihu  B.  Washburne.  He  was  always 
in  his  place,  fighting  "  steals"  of  every  kind  with  a  persistency 
which  was  almost  heroic.  No  man  was  so  conversant  with  the 
needs  of  the  army  as  he  was,  and  no  man  did  so  much  to  see 


"  The  Watch-dog  of  the  Treasury.''''  413 

that  those  needs  were  supplied.  Still,  he  continually  demand- 
ed that  the  finances  of  the  Government  should  be  administered 
with  the  strictest  economy,  and  by  his  steady  efforts  in  this 
direction,  and  his  determined  opposition  to  jobs  of  all  kinds, 
he  naturally  stimulated  the  bitter  enmity  of  "lobbies,"  "rings," 
jobbers,  and  tricksters,  but,  at  the  same  time,  well  earned  from 
his  discriminating  countrymen  the  appellation  of  the  "  Watch- 
dog of  the  Treasury." 

It  is  noticeable,  in  connection  with  Mr.  Washburne's  services 
at  this  time,  that  General  Grant  (one  of  his  constituents)  owed 
much  of  his  rank  in  the  army  to  his  influence.  Indeed,  every 
pi'omotion  which  he  received  was  given  either  solely  or  in  part 
upon  the  recommendation  of  his  Congressman.  The  manner 
in  which  he  became  senior  Brigadier-general  of  Illinois  volun- 
teers is  particularly  noteworthy. 

When  the  State  in  question  had  raised  thirty-six  regiments 
of  troops,  and  was  entitled  to  nine  Brigadier-generals,  President 
Lincoln  sent  to  each  of  the  Illinois  delegation,  Senators  and 
Congressmen,  a  personal  note,  asking  them  to  recommend  nine 
men  to  fill  the  vacant  positions.  The  delegation  came  together 
in  Judge  Trumbull's  room  ;  and,  after  some  discussion  as  to 
the  manner  in  which  the  selections  should  be  made,  it  was 
decided  that  the  districts  should  be  called  in  their  numerical 
order,  that  each  Congressman  should  name  his  candidate,  and 
that  his  associates  should  then  vote  for  or  against  him.  The 
Galena  District  was  the  one  first  called,  and,  in  response,  Mr. 
Washburne  suggested  Colonel  Grant,  of  Galena.  The  Colonel 
was  not  unknown  to  the  other  members  of  the  delegation,  and 
for  this  reason,  as  well  as  with  a  desire  to  gratify  Mr.  Wash- 
burne, every  member  of  the  delegation  voted  for  him.  He 
was  in  this  way  unanimously  recommended  as  the  first  choice 
of  the  State  for  one  of  the  nine  positions  which  the  President 
desired  to  fill.  By  virtue  of  thus  appearing  at  the  head  of 
the  Brigadiers,  as  it  afterward  turned  out,  Grant  took  senior 


414  Twelve  Americans. 

rank ;  and  when  it  became  necessary  to  make  Major-generals 
by  promotion,  for  the  simple  reason  that  his  name  was  at  the 
head  of  the  list,  as  described,  he  was  the  first  to  receive  the 
higher  rank.  Later  on  Mr.  Washburne  was  instrumental  in 
framing  and  passing  the  bill  which  made  Ulysses  S.  Grant  a 
Lieutenant-general,  and,  subsequently,  General  of  the  Armies 
of  the  United  States. 

Farther,  in  regard  to  the  services  of  Mr.  Washburne  in  the 
House,  it  may  be  mentioned  that  he  occupied  the  position  of 
Chairman  of  the  Committee  on  Commerce  for  ten  years,  and 
was  Chairman  of  the  Committee  on  Appropriations  during  the 
last  Congress  in  which  he  served.  lie  was  also  a  member  of 
the  Joint  Committee  on  the  Library,  Chairman  of  the  Com- 
mittee on  Government  Contracts  during  the  war — a  position  of 
great  responsibility — and  Chairman  of  the  Special  Committee 
to  examine  into  the  Memphis  riots,  in  the  summer  of  1866. 
He  was  also  a  member  of  the  Joint  Committee  on  Reconstruc- 
tion, and  Chairman  of  the  Committee  of  the  Whole  House  in 
the  matter  of  the  impeachment  of  Andrew  Johnson.  He  op- 
posed all  grants  of  the  public  lands,  and  all  subsidies  to  rail- 
road companies,  and  resisted  with  all  his  power  what  he  called 
"  the  greatest  legislative  crime  in  history" — the  bill  which  sub- 
ordinated the  first  mortgage  of  the  Government  on  the  Pacific 
Railroad  to  the  mortgage  of  the  railroad  companies — legislation 
which  enabled  the  railroad  companies  to  build  their  roads,  keep 
all  their  lands,  and  put  $16,000,000  into  the  pockets  of  the 
wily  managers,  who,  in  both  branches  of  Congress,  overrode  all 
opposition  to  their  scheme  of  plunder.  He  also  opposed  log- 
rolling river  and  harbor  bills,  all  extravagant  appropriations  for 
public  buildings,  all  subsidies  for  steamship  lines,  and  all  undue 
renewals  of  patents.  Among  the  important  bills  introduced 
by  him  was  that  providing  for  the  establishment  of  national 
cemeteries. 

There  is  reason  to  believe  that  General  Grant  was  grateful 


"The  Watch-dog  of  the  Treasury?  415 

to  Mr.  Washburne  for  the  good  service  which  he  did  him  when 
he  was  a  comparatively  obscure  citizen,  and  afterward,  when  he 
had  made  a  name.  At  all  events,  in  1869,  when  he  had  been 
elected  President,  one  of  his  first  acts  was  to  appoint  his  bene- 
factor to  the  highest  place  in  his  gift.  The  appointment  was 
made  in  a  manner  exceedingly  characteristic  of  General  Grant. 
It  is  a  fact  beyond  dispute  that,  as  in  the  case  of  "Don"  Cam- 
eron, Mr.  Washburne  was  entirely  ignorant  of  the  President's 
intention  to  make  him  one  of  his  Cabinet. 

The  great  Illinois  representative,  immediately  after  the  Pres- 
ident's inauguration,  was  sitting  in  his  room  in  the  Capitol 
— the  room  of  the  Committee  on  Appropriations,  which  he 
took  possession  of  after  the  death  of  "Thad"  Stevens  —  and 
was  discussing  with  Horace  Greeley  and  two  or  three  other 
gentlemen  the  probable  action  of  President  Grant  in  regard  to 
the  Cabinet.  Even  while  they  were  talking  a  page  came  in 
from  the  Senate  Chamber,  saying, 

"  Mr.  Washburne,  here  are  a  number  of  important  Executive 
appointments." 

Mr.  Washburne  took  the  paper  which  the  lad  handed  him, 
and,  greatly  to  his  surprise,  read,  at  the  top  of  the  list:  "To 
be  Secretary  of  State,  Elihu  B.  Washburne,  of  Illinois." 

Turning  to  Mr.  Greeley  and  other  gentlemen  present,  he  said, 

"The  question  is  at  last  settled,  gentlemen,  and,  strangely 
enough,  to  be  Secretary  of  State,  President  Grant  has  named 
myself." 

It  is  worthy  of  repetition  that  Mr.  Washburne  was  in  this 
way  for  the  first  time  informed  of  his  appointment.  He  had 
absolutely  no  previous  information  of  President  Grant's  inten- 
tion toward  himself. 

To  enter  the  Cabinet  he  reluctantly  resigned  his  seat  in  Con- 
gress, and  bade  farewell  to  a  constituency  which  for  nearly 
twenty  years  had  honored  themselves  by  honoring  him.  It  is 
said  that  he  resigned  reluctantly.     He  did  so,  not  only  because 


4i 6  Twelve  Americans. 

be  was  sorry  to  discontinue  his  Congressional  services  under  the 
old  pleasant  auspices,  but  because  he  feared  his  health  would 
not  permit  bim  to  perform  the  duties  of  the  new  position  to 
which  be  had  been  called.  Such  proved  to  be  the  case.  After 
a  sbort  term  of  service,  and  consultation  with  eminent  phy- 
sicians, he  was  fully  convinced  tbat  the  duties  of  tbe  State 
Department  were  more  exacting  tban  he  could  hope  to  fulfil 
with  safety  to  himself,  and  he  resigned. 

Tbe  following  is  the  correspondence  between  Mr.  "Washburn e 
and  tbe  President  on  the  subject : 

"  Washington,  D.  C,  March  10, 1869. 
"  To  the  President : 

"  When  you  did  me  the  honor  to  confer  upon  me  the  appointment  of 
Secretary  of  State  I  felt  constrained  to  state  to  you  that  my  health  would 
prevent  me  from  holding  the  position  for  any  length  of  time.  I  am  already 
admonished  that  a  proper  discharge  of  the  duties  of  the  office  would  in- 
volve more  labor  and  responsibility  than  I  am  willing  to  undertake,  in  jus- 
tice to  the  public  interest  and  myself.  If  convenient  and  agreeable  to  you, 
I  would  be  glad  to  have  you  name  my  successor  at  as  early  a  moment  as 
you  deem  practicable,  and  you  will  please  consider  this  as  my  resignation, 
to  take  effect  as  soon  as  my  successor  is  qualified  and  ready  to  enter  upon 
the  discharge  of  the  duties  of  the  office. 

"  I  need  not  add  here,  Mr.  President,  how  gratefully  I  appreciate  the 
distinguished  honor  you  conferred  upon  me  by  inviting  me  to  become  one 
of  your  constitutional  advisers. 

"Had  circumstances  permitted  it,  I  should  have  been  pleased  to  have 
been  associated  with  you  officially,  and  to  have  aided  you  as  far  as  in  my 
power  in  carrying  out  your  views  in  the  administration  of  the  Government 
upon  the  principles  of  honesty,  retrenchment,  economy,  public  faith,  and 
exact  and  equal  justice  to  all. 

"  I  have  the  honor  to  be,  very  respectfully,  your  obedient  servant, 

"  E.  B.  Washbcrne." 

"Executive  Mansion,  Washington,  D.  C,  March  11, 1869. 
"  Hon.  E.  B.  Washburne,  Secretary  of  State : 

"  Dear  Sir, — Tour  resignation  of  the  office  of  Secretary  of  State,  with 
reasons  for  the  same,  is  received. 

"  In  accepting  it  I  do  so  with  regret  that  your  health  will  not  permit 
you  to  continue  in  the  office  or  in  some  Cabinet  position.  Our  personal 
relations  have  been  such  from  the  breaking  out  of  the  rebellion  to  the 
present  day,  and  your  support  of  me  individually,  and  of  the  Army  and  its 
cause^such  that  no  other  idea  presented  itself  stronger  to  my  mind,  on  the 


"The  Watch-dog  of  the  Treasury?''  417 

first  news  of  my  election  to  the  Presidency,  than  that  I  should  continue  to 
have  your  advice  and  assistance.  In  parting  with  you,  therefore,  I  do  it 
with  the  assurance  of  continued  confidence  in  your  ability,  zeal,  and  friend- 
ship, and  with  the  hope  that  you  may  soon  be  relieved  from  the  physical 
disabilities  under  which  you  have  labored  for  the  last  few  years. 

"  Very  respectfully,  your  obedient  servant,  U.  S.  Grant." 

Subsequently  President  Grant  tendered  Mr.  Washburne  the 
position  of  Minister  to  France,  which  he-  accepted. 

V. 

IN  THE  MIDST   OF  A   FOREIGN  WAR. 

When  Elihu  B.  Washburne  resigned  his  position  as  Secre- 
tary of  State,  and,  because  of  ill-health  and  a  desire  for  rest, 
took  upon  himself  the  duties  of  the  Mission  to  France,  he 
reckoned  very  much  without  his  host.  Indeed,  he  had  only 
been  a  few  months  abroad  when  he  discovered  that  his  new 
post  was  destined  to  prove  a  most  laborious  if  not  a  very  dan- 
gerous one.  In  a  letter  written  to  the  State  Department,  un- 
der date  of  July  10,  1870,  he  says,  in  substance: 

"Never  did  the  peace  of  Europe  seem  better  assured  than  when  I  left 
Paris,  two  weeks  ago,  in  virtue  of  your  leave  of  absence,  to  seek  health 
and  repose  at  Carlsbad,  in  Bohemia.  It  was  not  until  after  my  arrival  at 
that  remote  and  somewhat  inaccessible  point  that  matters  appeared  to  be 
serious.  I  kept  myself  informed  as  to  the  progress  of  events  as  well  as  I 
could,  up  to  the  time  of  the  withdrawal  of  the  Hoheuzollern  candidature. 
That  I  supposed  would  end  the  threatened  trouble ;  but,  instead,  threaten- 
ing rumors  followed,  and  on  Saturday  last,  the  16th  inst.,  it  was  evident, 
from  the  meagre  intelligence  we  received,  that  a  great  crisis  had  been 
reached.  It  seemed,  indeed,  to  be  quite  certain  that  war  between  France 
and  the  North  German  Confederation  was  inevitable.  Under  such  circum- 
stances I  deemed  it  imperative  upon  me  to  return  to  my  post  of  duty. 
After  a  continuous  journey  of  fifty -two  hours,  by  diligence  and  rail,  I 
reached  Paris  last  night. 

"  The  sudden  and  unlooked-for  breaking  out  of  hostilities  between  two 
such  powerful  nations  as  France  and  the  North  German  Confederation  is, 
of  course,  a  most  startling  event.  *  *  *  The  interests  of  our  own  country 
are  now  so  interwoven  with  those  of  Europe  that  we  must  feel  the  shock. 
I  shall  deem  it  my  duty,  therefore,  to  remain  at  my  post,  and  to  gather  all 

18* 


41 8  Twelve  Americans. 

possible  information,  to  be  transmitted  promptly  to  you,  for  the  guidance 
of  our  Government  in  the  face  of  existing  circumstances.  I  have  spent 
much  time  to-day  with  official  persons  in  a  situation  to  know  the  facts,  in 
order  to  be  correctly  advised  in  relation  thereto.  Upon  the  withdrawal  of 
the  Hohenzollern  candidature  everything  was  in  a  fair  way  of  being  ac- 
commodated. There  is  no  truth  in  the  reports  concerning  the  indignity 
which  the  King  of  the  North  German  Confederation  offered  to  Benedetti, 
the  envoy  of  France.  On  the  night  of  Wednesday,  the  13th,  everything 
promised  a  peaceful  solution,  but  on  Thursday  morning,  at  about  two 
o'clock,  a  despatch  was  received  at  the  Foreign  Office  in  Paris  from  the 
French  Charge  d' Affaires  at  Berlin,  transmitting  the  semi-official  article  in 
Bismarck's  newspaper  organ,  giving  the  North  German  Confederation  side 
of  the  action  of  that  Government  in  the  Hohenzollern  affair.  *  *  *  On  Sat- 
urday, the  16th,  a  special  messenger  was  despatched  by  the  French  Gov- 
ernment to  Berlin  with  this  declaration ;  and  while  I  am  writing  this  de- 
spatch Count  Solms,  the  Charge  d'Affaires  of  the  North  German  Confedera- 
tion, has  been  in  to  say  that  Count  Bismarck  had  telegraphed  him  that  the 
notice  of  the  declaration  of  war  had  been  received  at  Berlin,  and  directing 
liim  to  turn  over  the  archives  of  the  Embassy  of  the  Xorth  German  Con- 
federation to  our  Legation,  and  to  leave  Paris  immediately,  with  the  entire 
personnel  of  the  Embassy.  They  all  leave  to-morrow,  and  they  will  send 
here  the  most  valuable  of  their  archives,  upon  which  I  shall  place  the  seal 
of  this  Legation.  A  great  many  things  will  be  left  in  the  Embassy,  upon 
some  of  which  the  Count  desires  that  our  seal  may  be  placed,  and  that  we 
shall  have  an  oversight  of  the  Embassy  and  the  property  left  there.  He 
requests  that,  in  case  there  should  be  danger  of  an  attack  upon  the  Prus- 
sian Embassy,  I  should  put  up  the  American  flag  there  for  its  protection. 
I  told  him  I  should  consult  with  the  Duke  de  Gramont  on  Thursday  next 
touching  the  extent  of  the  protection  that  France  expected  we  should 
give  to  that  Embassy.  Whether  or  not,  under  the  assent  of  France,  our 
Government,  having  given  protection  to  the  subjects  of  the  Xorth  German 
Confederation  in  France  and  the  archives  of  its  Embassy,  would  authorize 
me  to  place  the  American  flag  over  the  Embassy  simply  for  its  protection, 
is  a  question  upon  which  I  desire  to  be  instructed  by  you.  It  is  not  yet 
fully  known  what  is  to  be  the  exact  status  of  the  South  German  States. 
Saxony  has  taken  its  position,  and  the  Count  de  Seebach,  Envoy  Extraor- 
dinary and  Minister  Plenipotentiary  of  that  country  near  the  French  Court, 
has  already  left  Paris.  The  Charge  d'Affaires  has  been  to  me  this  after- 
noon to  say  that  he  is  requested  by  his  sovereign  to  ask  the  same  protection 
of  the  United  States  for  the  citizens  of  Saxony  and  for  the  archives  of  that 
Legation  as  has  been  accorded  to  the  North  German  Confederation.  I  told 
him  to  make  his  request  in  writing,  and  I  would  apply  for  the  assent  of 
the  French  Government ;  and,  if  accorded,  I  felt  certain  that  I  should  be 
carrying  out  the  wishes  of  my  Government  to  give  the  protection;  and 
I  trust  this  will  merit  your  approval." 


"The  Watch-dog  of  the  Treasury  P  419 

The  approval  for  which  he  asked  was  promptly  given  to 
him,  and  without  delay  he  put  himself  in  communication  with 
the  French  Foreign  Department,  for  the  purpose  of  learning  to 
what  extent,  and  upon  what  terms,  he  could  secure  protection 
and  free  conduct  out  of  Paris  and  the  Empire  for  those  Ger- 
mans Avho  desired  it.  In  performing  this  service  Mr.  Wash- 
burne,  as  is  now  believed  by  the  most  distinguished  jurists  in 
this  and  other  countries,  did  much  to  establish  precedents 
which  hereafter  will  in  like  emergency  guide  the  diplomatic 
representatives  of  civilized  nations.  The  extent  to  which  he 
concerned  himself  regarding  the  welfare  of  German  subjects 
in  France,  and  the  careful  study  which  he  gave  to  the  laws 
bearing  upon  the  subject,  may  in  some  degree  be  gathered 
from  an  interesting  communication  which,  under  date  of  July 
25,  1870,  he  addressed  to  the  Duke  de  Gramont,  then  the 
French  Minister  of  Foreign  Affairs.     In  that  epistle  he  says : 

"I  have  the  honor  to  acknowledge  the  receipt  of  your  Excellency's 
communication  in  reply  to  mine,  asking  information  in  behalf  of  North 
German  Confederate  subjects  desiring  to  quit  French  territoiy.  Your 
Excellency's  communication  seems  to  assume  the  probability  that  more  or 
less  of  these  applicants  are  desirous  of  quitting  France  to  answer  the  sum- 
mons of  their  own  Government  to  bear  arms  against  France,  under  the 
provision  of  the  laws  of  the  North  German  Confederation.  Without  un- 
dertaking to  contest  the  exactness  of  this  assumption,  or  without  under- 
taking to  inform  your  Excellency  whether  any  or  what  portion  of  these 
applicants  are  to  be  found  outside  of  the  present  limits  of  liability  to  bear 
arms  in  the  ranks  of  the  Confederation,  in  case  of  their  return  to  North 
Germany,  matters  upon  which  I  have  not  particularly  informed  myself, 
you  will  allow  me  to  remark,  in  loyal  fulfilment  of  the  function  that  has 
been  confided  to  me  in  this  regard,  that  I  was  not  prepared  to  learn  that 
the  exception  now  proposed  to  be  made  by  the  Government  of  his  Maj- 
esty to  the  disadvantage  of  a  portion,  perhaps  the  largest  portion,  of  the 
applicants  would  be  insisted  upon,  viz.,  that  a  liability  to  perform  military 
service  in  the  home  army  constitutes  a  sufficient  reason  for  the  refusal  of 
the  ordinary  privilege  of  quitting  foreign  belligerent  territory  on  the  out- 
break of  a  war  between  that  foreign  Government  and  the  home  nation. 
If  the  exception  stated  by  your  Excellency  is  to  constitute  a  settled  prin- 
ciple of  international  comity — for  I  at  once  concede  that  there  is  no  ques- 
tion of  absolute  right,  but  only  of  comity  or  social  civilization,  involved  in 


420  Twelve  Americans. 

the  decision  in  the  case  of  these  applicants — then  I  beg  leave  to  suggest 
that  the  exception  becomes  the  rule,  and  that  the  privilege  of  returning  to 
one's  own  country  at  the  outbreak  of  a  war  becomes  a  mere  nullity,  since 
of  what  male  subject,  of  whatever  age  or  of  whatever  condition  of  life, 
may  it  not  be  affirmed  that  at  some  time  or  under  some  circumstances  he 
may  be  compelled  to  join  the  ranks  of  his  country's  armies  in  her  defence, 
say,  in  some  sudden  or  extreme  emergency  ?  And  is  a  distinction  to  be 
made  between  those  countries  which  limit  the  conscription  of  their  sol- 
diers to  a  very  restricted  section  of  their  population  and  those  Govern- 
ments which,  like  Prussia,  the  United  States,  and,  perhaps,  Switzerland, 
bring  much  the  larger  proportion  of  their  citizens  under  the  reach  of  the 
law  of  military  service?  Will  your  Excellency  allow  me  respectfully  to 
suggest  that,  in  the  limited  examination  which  I  have  been  able  to  give 
to  this  subject,  I  find  the  line  of  exception  now  suggested  to  his  Majesty's 
Government  to  the  general  concessions  usually  made  in  favor  of  foreign 
subjects  wishing  to  quit  belligerent  territory  an  entirely  new  one  ?  Even 
in  feudal  times,  when  the  liability  to  do  military  duty  to  the  sovereign  lord 
or  king  was  held  in  much  greater  strictness  than  at  the  present  day,  I  do 
not  find  that  the  point  was  insisted  upon  of  the  returning  liege  being 
liable  to  become  a  hostile  soldier.  Certainly,  under  my  own  Government, 
from  which,  perhaps,  I  borrow  my  prepossessions,  the  idea  of  any  such 
distinction  seems  to  have  been  long  since  discarded.  For  as  early  as 
1*798,  and  when  hostilities  between  the  United  States  and  France  seemed 
imminent,  I  may  say,  in  reference  to  the  departure  of  French  subjects 
from  United  States  territory,  my  own  Government,  by  formal  statute,  de- 
clared that  subjects  of  the  hostile  nation  who  might  wish  to  quit  the 
United  States  on  the  outbreak  of  future  hostilities  should  be  allowed 
'  such  reasonable  time  as  may  be  consistent  with  the  public  safety,  and 
according  to  the  dictates  of  humanity  and  national  hospitality,'  and 'for 
the  recovery,  disposal,  and  removal  of  their  goods  and  effects,  and  for  their 
departure.'  ('  Laws  of  the  United  States,'  vol.  i.,  p.  57*7.)  Thus,  your  Ex- 
cellency will  observe  that  the  privilege  is  granted  in  the  most  unrestricted 
terms,  without  allusion  to  a  liability  to  render  military  aid  to  an  enemy. 
I  need  not  add  that  the  same  principle  is  incorporated  into  various  sub- 
sisting treaties  of  the  United  States,  and  that  the  highest  American  au- 
thority on  public  law,  Chancellor  Kent,  considers  the  principle  to  have  be- 
come an  established  formula  of  modern  public  law.  This  learned  publi- 
cist, I  may  perhaps  be  permitted  to  add,  quotes  various  Continental  publi- 
cists, including  Emerigon  and  Vattel,  as  upholding  and  ratifying  the  same 
doctrine.     (Kent's  '  Commentaries,'  vol.  i.,  pp.  56-59.) 

"  I  trust  that  these  suggestions  of  a  liberal  construction  of  the  rights 
of  departing  belligerents  will  not  be  deemed  inappropriate  or  untimely  on 
my  part,  since  your  Excellency  does  not  apprise  me  that  any  public  notice 
of  the  qualified  restraints  foreshadowed  in  your  communication  have  yet 
been  definitely  made  public,  and  since,  from  that  liberal  concession  in  favor 


"  The  Watch-clog  of  the  Treasury."  42 1 

of  belligerent  residents  who  do  not  choose  to  depart  which  his  Majesty's 
Government  has  published,  and  to  which  your  Excellency  has  alluded, 
I  deduce  an  anxious  desire  on  the  part  of  that  Government  to  conform 
as  much  as  possible  to  the  mildest  interpretation  of  the  hardships  of  the 
laws  of  war." 

By  this  and  many  other  similarly  clear-cut  and  forcible 
appeals  Mr.  Washburne  at  last  succeeded,  practically  upon  his 
own  terras,  in  effecting  the  release  from  confinement  within 
the  French  limits  of  nearly  all  the  German  subjects  who  de- 
sired to  return  to  their  own  country.  Writing  to  the  Ameri- 
can Secretary  of  State,  under  date  of  September  2,  1870,  he 
thus  tells  of  the  remarkable  success  which  he  had  in  the  direc- 
tion indicated : 

"  The  greater  part  of  the  German  population  has  left  Paris.  This  Lega- 
tion has  vised  passports  and  given  safe-conducts  for  very  nearly  30,000 
persons,  subjects  of  the  North  German  Confederation,  expelled  from 
France.  We  have  given  railroad  tickets  to  the  Prussian  frontier  for  8000 
of  these  people,  as  well  as  small  amounts  of  money  to  a  much  smaller 
number.  From  this  statement  you  will  form  somewhat  of  an  estimate  of 
the  amount  of  labor  we  have  performed  for  the  past  few  weeks.  *  *  *  My 
time  is  now  a  good  deal  taken  up  in  looking  after  Germans  who  have  been 
arrested  and  thrown  into  prison.  The  number  is  very  great,  but  my  appli- 
cations are  promptly  attended  to,  and  thus  far  every  man  has  been  released 
for  whom  I  have  applied." 

The  success  which  attended  Mr.  Washburne's  exertions  in 
behalf  of  the  Germans  induced  natives  of  nearly  every  other 
country  who  needed,  or  thought  they  needed,  protection  to  ap- 
ply to  him,  and  soon  the  American  Legation  began  to  be  re- 
garded as  the  one  place  in  Paris  where  people  of  all  nationali- 
ties were  safe  from  molestation.  How  much  such  protection 
was  needed,  even  during  the  first  weeks  of  the  war,  may  be 
inferred  from  the  following  vivid  description  of  a  scene  in  the 
streets  of  Paris,  which  was  written  by  Mr.  Washburne  at  the 
time : 

"  Some  time  after  the  defeat  of  the  French  army  at  Weissenborg,  on 
the  French  frontier,  as  the  report  goes,  a  man  in  the  uniform  of  a  courier, 


422  Twelve  Americans. 

or  messenger,  rode  up  to  the  front  of  the  Bourse,  where  a  large  crowd  had 
already  assembled,  and  delivered  into  the  hands  of  a  person  who  was  evi- 
dently his  confederate  what  purported  to  be  an  official  despatch,  and  which 
gave  an  account  of  a  great  battle  having  been  fought,  in  which  the  French 
had  been  victorious,  taken  forty  guns  and  25,000  prisoners,  among  whom 
was  included  the  Crown  Prince. 

"A  spark  of  fire  falling  upon  a  magazine  would  hardly  have  produced  a 
greater  explosion.  The  assembled  multitude  broke  out  into  the  wildest 
shouts,  the  contents  of  the  despatch  were  repeated  from  mouth  to  mouth, 
and  men  ran  in  every  direction  communicating  the  joyful  intelligence. 
The  people  rushed  into  the  streets ;  flags  were  everywhere  displayed  ;  men 
embraced  and  kissed  each  other,  shedding  tears  of  joy ;  shouts,  vocifera- 
tions, and  oaths  filled  the  air,  and  probably  such  a  delirium  was  never  be- 
fore witnessed.  Rue  Richelieu,  the  Boulevards  Montmartre  and  Italiens, 
and  the  Rue  de  la  Paix  were  filled  with  people  singing  the  '  Marseillaise.' 
Everybody  declared  that  the  news  was  true — they  had  seen  the  official  re- 
port ;  there  could  be  no  doubt  of  its  correctness.  Madame  Sass,  a  distin- 
guished Opera-singer,  was  found  in  the  street,  and  the  crowd  insisted  upon 
her  singing  the  '  Marseillaise '  from  her  carriage,  which  she  sang  three 
times,  amid  transports  of  enthusiasm.  In  another  part  of  the  street  the 
multitude  forced  another  distinguished  singer  to  mount  to  the  top  of  an 
omnibus,  also  to  sing  the  '  Marseillaise.' 

"After  the  first  furor  of  the  enthusiasm  had  subsided  some  persons 
began  to  suggest  that  it  would  be  well  to  inquire  a  little  farther  into  the 
news,  and,  of  course,  the  result  was  that  it  proved  to  be  a  stupendous  hoax. 
The  songs  at  once  ceased,  the  flags  were  taken  in,  and  the  victims  of  the 
canard  began  to  feel  indignant.  As  it  originated  at  the  Bourse,  the  cry 
was  raised  in  the  crowd, ^A  la  Bourse!"1  and  away  the  people  went,  breath- 
ing vengeance  against  the  money-changers  and  speculators,  who,  it  is  al- 
leged, had  taken  advantage  of  the  false  report  to  get  the  benefit  of  a  rise 
of  about  four  per  cent,  in  the  stocks.  Never  were  money-changers  more 
summarily  driven  out  of  their  temple.  In  a  few  moments  all  persons  in  the 
Bourse  were  expelled.  Some  of  them,  it  is  said,  were  thrown  head  and 
heels  out  of  the  windows  and  doors.  In  a  short  time,  however,  the  crowd 
left  the  Bourse,  greatly  exasperated  at  having  been  made  victims  of  so 
cruel  a  hoax,  and  directed  themselves  toward  the  Place  Vendome,  halting 
under  the  windows  of  the  Minister  of  Justice.  There  they  shouted  for 
Ernile  Ollivier,  and  demanded  of  him  the  closing  of  the  Bourse,  from 
which  the  false  news  had  emanated.  M.  Ollivier  responded  in  a  short  and 
well-turned  speech,  closing  by  asking  them  to  disperse,  which  they  did." 

Not  always,  however,  were  the  turbulent  crowds  of  Paris  to 
be  dispersed  by  a  speecli  from  the  Department  of  Justice. 
Defeat  after  defeat  befell  the  French  army.     The  bravery 


"  The  Watch-dog  qf  the  Treasury."  423 

and  dash  of  the  soldiers  of  "the  sunny  land"  were  powerless 
against  the  machine-like  discipline  and  iron  endurance  of  the 
sons  of  Germania.  "With  defeat  came  gloom,  then  riot,  then 
the  bloody  siege  of  Paris,  and  at  last  the  horrible  rule  of  the 
Commune.  Daring  all  those  terrible  days  Elihu  B.  Wash- 
burne  stood  manfully  at  his  post.  The  representatives  of 
nearly  every  other  foreign  nation  fled  in  dismay,  fearing  for 
their  lives — the  American  Minister  remained.  Shells  exploded 
within  a  few  yards  of  his  office,  fires  raged,  high  walls,  pillars, 
and  ancient  monuments  tottered  and  fell  in  heaps  around,  but 
still  he  would  not  forsake  the  trust  which  his  Government  had 
given  into  his  keeping.  From  the  windows  of  his  apartments 
he  saw  Paris  in  flames ;  saw  the  streets  of  the  great  capital  lit- 
erally covered  with  blood;  saw  men  shot  down;  was  saluted 
day  and  night  by  the  hoarse  yells  of  drunken  madmen  and  by 
the  groans  of  the  dying ;  but  through  every  horror  he  still  re- 
mained at  his  post. 

Of  all  the  terrible  events  which  he  was  obliged  to  live 
through  during  this  time  that  which  impressed  him  most 
deeply  was  the  foul  murder,  by  the  Commune,  of  Monscigneur 
Darboy,  Archbishop  of  Paris.  That  venerable  man  was  arrest- 
ed on  the  night  of  April  14,  1871,  and  hurried  to  prison,  in 
company  with  the  Abbe  Deguerry,  the  Cure  of  the  Madeleine, 
and  several  other  priests.  Shortly  after  the  arrests  Mr.  Wash- 
burne  was  informed  of  them,  and  besought  by  many  of  the 
well-thinking  people  of  Paris  to  do  what  he  could  to  save  the 
life  of  the  Archbishop,  which  was  believed  to  be  in  danger. 
Without  hesitation  he'  went  to  the  Mazas,  where  the  prelate 
was  confined. 

He  found  him  shut  up  in  a  damp  and  narrow  cell,  guarded  by 
rude  men,  but  still  without  apprehension  that  he  would  be  sub- 
jected to  personal  violence.  Subsequently  the  Archbishop  was 
removed  to  the  prison  of  La  Roquctte.  Here  Mr.  Washburnc 
as;ain  visited  him.     He  found  that  the  National  Guard  dele- 


424  Twelve  Americans. 

gates  to  the  prison  were  drunk  and  ready  for  any  crime.  The 
guards  would  not  permit  him  to  enter  the  cell  of  Monseigneur 
Darboy,  but  allowed  the  Archbishop  to  come  out  into  the  cor- 
ridor. 

He  was  very  weak  and  pale,  having  suffered  much  during 
his  confinement.  Still,  he  was  evidently  much  pleased  at  see- 
ing Mr.  Washburne,  and,  greeting  him  with  a  pleasant  smile, 
said, 

"  I  am  indeed  obliged  to  you,  sir,  for  the  kind  interest 
which  you  take  in  my  sad  case." 

"  I  beg  you  not  to  speak  of  obligation,"  was  Mr.  Wash- 
burne's  reply.  "  I  am  only  sorry  that  I  can  be  of  so  little 
service  to  you." 

Then  the  gentlemen  talked  of  the  terrors  of  the  situation, 
and  the  probabilities  of  the  speedy  deliverance  of  Paris. 

As  Mr.  Washburne  was  about  to  leave,  the  good  prelate  said, 
"  You  have  always  been  so  good  and  so  kind  to  me,  that  if, 
in  God's  mercy,  I  shall  be  spared,  it  will  be  my  greatest  pleas- 
ure to  tell  of  all  you  have  done  for  me." 

These  were  the  last  words  he  is  known  to  have  spoken  to 
any  friendly  human  being. 

Mr.  Washburne  made  every  effort  to  secure  his  release,  but 
without  avail.  Three  days  after  the  conversation  related  the 
Archbishop  was  brutally  murdered  by  the  drunken  soldiery  of 
the  Commune. 

He,  together  with  the  Cure  of  the  Madeleine,  the  Abbe  De- 
guerry,  and  the  Senator  Bonjean,  were  taken  from  their  cells 
into  the  court-yard  and  placed  against  the  high  wall  which 
encloses  the  sombre  edifice  of  La  Roquette.  The  Archbishop 
was  at  the  head  of  the  line,  and  the  fiends  who  butchered  him 
had,  in  mockery  of  his  high  station  in  the  Church,  scratched 
with  their  knives  a  cross  on  the  stone  behind  his  head. 

Then,  by  the  light  of  many  torches,  taking  deadly  aim,  the 
brutal  rioters  fired  at  their  helpless  victims.     The  Archbishop 


"The  Watch-dog  of  the  Treasury."  425 

did  not  fall  at  the  first  volley,  but  stood  for  a  moment  calm 
and  immovable.     Then  rapidly  he  made  the  sign  of  the  cross. 

Another  volley  was  fired,  and,  pierced  by  a  hail  of  bullets,  he 
fell,  with  his  companions,  never  to  rise  again. 

Afterward  his  body  was  horribly  mutilated,  and,  with  those 
of  his  friends,  was  removed  to  Pere  la  Chaise,  where  they  were 
thrown  into  the  common  trench.  From  this,  however,  the  re- 
mains were  subsequently  removed,  and  in  the  end  afforded 
decent  burial. 

VI. 

THE  THANKS   OF   NATIONS. 

For  his  heroic  services  during  the  siege  of  Paris  and  the  ter- 
rible reign  of  the  Commune,  Minister  Washburne  received  the 
thanks  of  thousands  of  individuals  whom  he  had  aided,  and  of 
many  nations  and  high  public  officers.  The  German  Govern- 
ment, to  subjects  of  which  he  was  of  untold  benefit,  was  partic- 
ularly warm  in  expressions  of  gratitude. 

Mr.  Washburne  was  practically  the  Prussian  Minister  at  Paris 
for  nearly  a  year,  was  guardian  of  the  archives  of  the  German 
Embassy,  and  was  charged  with  the  protection  of  all  Germans 
and  German  interests  in  France  during  all  that  time.  In  addi- 
tion he  was  equally  charged  with  protecting  the  persons  and 
property  of  other  nationalities,  as  follows :  Saxony,  Hesse- 
Grande-Ducale,  Saxe-Cobourg-Gotha,  Portugal,  Mexico,  the  Do- 
minican Republic,  Uruguay,  Costa  Rica,  Ecuador,  Chili,  Para- 
guay, Venezuela,  and  Roumania. 

Quite  an  event  in  the  earlier  days  of  the  siege  was  the  sud- 
den appearance  in  Paris  of  General  Burnside  (afterward  United 
States  Senator  from  Rhode  Island)  and  Paul  Forbes.  In  one 
of  his  letters  to  Mr.  Washburne,  Bismarck  was  inclined  to  claim 
some  credit  for  his  liberality  in  allowing  these  two  distinguished 
gentlemen  to  enter  Paris,  but,  in  a  vein  of  pleasantry,  adds : 


426  Ttvelve  Americans. 

"  This  liberality  of  ours  lias  been  rewarded  by  those  excellent 
cigars  you  have  been  kind  enough  to  send  me." 

Some  time  after  the  close  of  the  war  the  Emperor  Wilhelm 
conferred  upon  Mr.  Washburne  the  Order  of  the  Red  Eagle — 
one  of  the  highest  within  his  gift — and  accompanied  it  by  a 
jewelled  star  of  great  value  and  exquisite  workmanship.  This, 
because  of  the  constitutional  provision  which  prohibits  United 
States  Ministers  from  accepting  foreign  orders,  Mr.  Washburne 
was  compelled  to  decline.  Still,  desiring  to  show  to  him  some 
mark  of  appreciation,  the  Emperor,  on  the  eve  of  Mr.  Wash- 
burne's  departure  for  America,  sent  him  his  portrait,  accompa- 
nied by  the  following  letters,  which  will  fully  explain  them- 
selves : 

"Foreign  Office,  Berlin,  September  S,  1877. 
"  The  undersigned  discharges  an  agreeable  duty  in  sending  to  the  former 
Envoy  Extraordinary  and  Minister  Plenipotentiary  of  the  United  States  of 
America  to  the  French  Republic,  Mr.  E.  B.  Washburne,  a  letter  of  his  Maj- 
esty the  Emperor  and  King,  our  most  gracious  master,  which  has  just 
been  received  from  the  Imperial  Court  at  Castle  Beurath,  near  Diisseldorf, 
and  with  which  his  Majesty  has  been  pleased  to  send  his  portrait.  Hoping 
that  the  portrait,  which  has  been  sent  to  Bremen,  may  have  come  into  the 
possession  of  Mr.  Washburne,  and  that  the  enclosed  most  gracious  let- 
ter may  reach  its  destination  before  Mr.  Washburne  leaves  the  European 
continent,  the  undersigned  at  the  same  time  wishes  Mr.  Washburne  a 
happy  journey  to  his  native  land,  and  that  after  the  full  discharge  of  his 
arduous  duties  he  may  enjoy  a  long  and  blessed  repose  in  his  native  coun- 
try. With  these  wishes,  in  which  all  Germans,  in  grateful  remembrance 
of  the  debt  which  they  owe  to  Mr.  Washburne,  heartily  unite,  the  under- 
signed begs  Mr.  Washburne  again  to  receive  the  assurance  of  his  high 
esteem. 

"  The  Secretary  of  State  of  the  Foreign  Office, 

"  V.  Bulow." 

The  letter  of  the  Emperor,  mentioned  by  the  German  Minis- 
ter, is  couched  in  the  following  most  cordial  terms : 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Washburne, — After  you  have  been  recalled  from  your 
post,  as  Ambassador  of  the  United  States  at  Paris,  and  as  you  are  about 
to  return  to  your  native  country,  I  take  occasion  to  renew  my  acknowledg- 
ments, already  personally  expressed,  of  the  zeal  and  devotion  with  which 
you,  under  difficult  circumstances,  protected  the  German  interests  during 


"  The  Watch-dog  of  the  Treasury."  427 

the  German-French  war.  As  a  testimony  of  my  gratitude,  I  send  you 
herewith  my  portrait  executed  in  oil.  You  will  please  to  receive  the  same 
as  a  remembrance  of  the  eventful  time  during  which  you  have  been  in  a 
position  to  render  beneficial  and  efficient  services  to  my  Government,  and 
at  the  same  time  as  a  sign  of  my  regard  and  kind  wishes  with  which  I 
accompany  your  return  to  private  life. 

"I  remain,  my  dear  Mr.  Washburne,  your  affectionate 

"  Wilhelm. 
"To  Mr.  E.  B.  Washburne, till  now  Envoy  Extraordinary,  etc., 
of  the  United  States  to  the  French  Republic. 
"Be.urath,  September  7,  1877." 

In  addition  to  this  remarkable  testimonial,  Mr.  Washburne 
during  the  French-German  war  and  since  received  many  warm 
public  and  private  messages  of  thanks  and  congratulation. 
Among  the  former  is  a  despatch  from  the  United  States  Gov- 
ernment, sent  through  Secretary  Fish,  and  in  which  his  services 
to  his  country  are  acknowledged  in  the  following  terms : 

"Your  Government  has  sympathized  deeply  with  you  in  the  trials  and 
privations  and  annoyances  to  which  you  were  subjected  during  the  long- 
continued  siege  of  the  capital  to  which  you  were  officially  accredited,  and 
where  a  high  sense  of  duty,  which  is  appreciated  and  commended,  induced 
you  to  remain  in  the  efficient  and  heroic  discharge  of  the  most  difficult  and 
delicate  responsibilities  that  fall  within  the  province  of  diplomatic  service. 
The  President  recognizes  that  your  continuance  within  the  besieged  capi- 
tal, after  the  discretionary  permission  given  you  in  my  despatch  of  the  24th 
January  last,  has  been  from  the  promptings  of  your  own  conviction  that 
the  interests  committed  to  you  required  the  very  great  sacrifice  of  comfort, 
of  the  separation  from  your  family,  isolation  from  the  intercourse  of 
friends,  personal  discomforts,  and  risk  of  health  and  life.  This  sacrifice 
and  these  trials  you  have  endured,  and  I  desire  officially  to  record  the  high 
appreciation  and  warm  approval  of  your  Government.  You  have  done 
your  duty  faithfully  and  ably,  and  the  President  tenders  you  his  thanks 
for  the  manner  in  which  you  have  discharged  the  delicate  duties  devolving 
upon  you,  and  have  on  all  occasions  maintained  the  dignity  of  your  posi- 
tion and  the  rights  of  your  Government." 

After  serving  the  United  States  in  Paris  for  nearly  nine 
years,  Mr.  Washburne,  at  the  commencement  of  President 
Hayes's  term,  asked  to  be  recalled.  Returning  to  this  coun- 
try, he  made  his  home  in  Chicago,  hoping  to  enjoy  the  quiet 
life  of  a  private  citizen.     In  1880  he  was  prominently  men- 


428  Twelve  Americans. 

tioned  in  connection  with  the  Republican  nomination  for  the 
Presidency ;  but  so  far  as  is  known  he  made  no  personal  ef- 
fort to  secure  votes  in  the  Convention.  It  was  charged  at  the 
time  that  prior  to  the  historical  struggle  at  Chicago  he  was 
"  unfaithful "  to  General  Grant.  This  is  nonsense.  Mr.  Wash- 
burne  took  no  part  in  the  contest.  During  its  continuance  he 
attended  quietly  to  his  own  business.  No  more,  no  less.  After 
Garfield  had  been  named  for  President  some  of  his  friends  in 
the  Convention  made  him  a  candidate  for  Vice-President;  but, 
as  need  not  be  told,  Chester  A.  Arthur  was  nominated  to  that 
office. 

Still  enjoying  comparatively  good  health,  Mr.  Washburne  has 
recently  spent  most  of  his  time  in  literary  pursuits.  In  his 
lofty  and  commodious  library,  surrounded  by  rare  engravings, 
books,  and  manuscripts,  he  is  at  all  times,  when  in  Chicago, 
easily  accessible  to  those  who  desire  to  see  him.  His  long 
residence  at  foreign  courts,  among  princes  and  grandees,  has 
in  no  way  changed  him.  He  is,  as  he  has  always  been,  a  cour- 
teous, straightforward,  plain-spoken  American  gentleman.  He 
is  a  representative  American  citizen  who  has  won  success  by 
working  for  it.  He  has  been  highly-honored  by  his  country, 
and  it  can  with  all  truth  be  said  that  he  deserved  every  honor 
he  received. 


A  Man  of  the  South. 


ALEXANDER     H.    STEPHENS. 


A  Mem  of  the  South. 


ALEXANDER  H.  STEPHENS. 


"MAN  AND  BOY." 

For  a  number  of  years  prior  to  the  session  of  1883  the 
man  in  the  United  States  House  of  Representatives  who  al- 
ways attracted  most  public  attention,  the  man  who  was  most 
inquired  about  by  visitors  from  abroad,  was  a  helpless  cripple, 
a  physical  wreck.  James  A.  Garfield,  robust,  loud-voiced,  and 
eloquent,  was,  in  his  day,  a  most  prominent  figure  in  the 
Chamber ;  Blackburn,  the  brilliant  Kentucky  firebrand,  had 
scores  of  ardent  admirers.  There  were  many  who  asked  to  have 
nervous  and  witty  "  Sam  "  Cox  pointed  out  to  them.  Polished 
and  graceful  Hooker,  the  one-armed  member  from  Mississippi, 
was  much  sought  after.  Many  visitors  asked  to  see  Robeson, 
"  the  ablest  of  constitutional  orators."  Practical,  energetic,  and 
common-sense  S.  B.  Chittenden,  and  that  shrewd  man  of  busi- 
ness and  courteous  gentleman,  L.  P.  Morton,  were  frequently 
asked  for.  The  iron-framed  "  father  of  the  House,"  Mr.  Kelley, 
of  Pennsylvania,  was,  of  course,  one  of  the  lions.  And  many 
lesser  lights  attracted  passing  attention.  The  one  central  figure 
of  the  House,  however — the  one  man  of  all  others  on  the  floor 
whom  visitors  to  Washington  from  all  parts  of  the  country, 
from  the  North  as  well  as  from  the  South,  most  desired  to  see 
— was  puny,  white-faced,  broken,  paralyzed,  tottering,  trem- 
bling Alexander  H.  Stephens,  of  Georgia.     Unable  to  walk, 


430  Twelve  Americans. 

unable  to  stand,  he  sat,  in  his  invalid  roll-chair,  half-way  down 
the  centre  aisle  and  just  in  front  of  the  Speaker's  desk.  From 
under  the  high  black  hat  which  he  always  wore,  and  which 
was  at  all  times  filled  with  letters  and  papers,  his  dark,  mourn- 
ful eyes,  set  in  a  drawn,  pinched,  and  unutterably  sad  little 
face,  peered  out  restlessly.  Nothing  seemed  to  escape  his  at- 
tention. Other  men  might  desert  their  posts,  other  men  might 
fail  to  respond  to  the  roll-call,  but  poor  sick  little  "  Aleck " 
Stephens,  often  at  the  risk  of  his  life,  when  not  dying  was 
always  in  his  place.  In  the  midst  of  greatest  excitement  he 
was  always  calm  and  collected.  By  bitterest  experience  he 
had  learned  to  control  himself.  When,  because  of  the  noise 
and  confusion  on  the  floor,  no  other  man's  voice  could  be 
heard,  his  shrill  tones,  counselling  moderation  and  a  regard  for 
the  general  welfare,  sounding  high  above  the  din  of  contending 
factions,  often  brought  order  out  of  chaos,  and  were  always 
listened  to  with  respectful  attention. 

He  richly  deserved  such  attention,  for  of  all  the  public  men 
in  "  the  great  South  " — a  section  in  which  to  be  independent 
and  conscientious  in  politics  is  only  too  often  to  be  misunder- 
stood, traduced,  vilified,  and  abused — Alexander  H.  Stephens 
was  one  of  the  most  independent  and  among  the  most  conscien- 
tious. With  all  his  faults,  despite  his  many  mistakes,  he  must 
still  be  regarded  as  one  of  the  most  interesting  figures  in  the 
political  history  of  the  nation.  To  give  some  idea  of  what  were 
his  aims  and  aspirations,  to  clear  away  some  misapprehensions 
as  to  his  motives,  to  lay  bare  the  influences  and  reasons  which 
prompted  his  most  important  public  acts,  to  truthfully  relate 
the  principal  incidents  in  his  eventful  and  dramatic  career,  is 
the  object  of  this  paper. 

The  birth  of  Alexander  H.  Stephens  was  the  result  of  a 
romance.  His  life,  begun  among  wild  scenes,  and  continued 
through  many  strange  vicissitudes,  was  one  long,  patient,  un- 
complaining battle   against  pain,  deep-seated  disease,  and   a 


A  Man  of  the  South.  43 1 

great  sorrow  of  the  existence  of  which  but  few  men  have 
known.  His  grandfather,  Alexander  Stephens,  was  one  of  the 
Jacobites  who  fled  from  England  to  America  after  the  disastrous 
sequel  to  the  ill-starred  attempt  of  "the  Forty-five."  Filled 
with  a  spirit  of  adventure,  young  and  strong,  he  at  first  made 
his  home  with  the  Shawnee  Indians,  in  Pennsylvania.  He  took 
part  in  the  French  and  Indian  war,  serving  under  Washington, 
and  was  present  at  Braddock's  defeat.  Subsequently,  in  his 
wanderings  he  came  to  the  ferry  at  the  junction  of  the  Juniata 
and  Susquehanna  Rivers,  and  there  fell  in  love  with  the  daughter 
of  the  ferry  proprietor,  a  rich  man,  named  Boskins.  The  maid 
looked  favorably  upou  the  young  adventurer's  suit;  but  the 
rich  father,  as  rich  fathers  will,  objected.  Still  the  love-making 
went  on,  and  in  the  end  the  young  people,  braving  the  father's 
displeasure,  were  married.  The  latter,  true  to  his  threat,  dis- 
owned his  daughter  and  disinherited  her. 

Some  time  after  this,  the  war  of  Independence  having  been 
declared,  Stephens  took  service  with  the  patriots.  He  was  a 
good  soldier,  and  at  the  close  of  hostilities  retired  with  the 
rank  of  Captain.  Unfortunately,  his  estate  was  not  in  keeping 
with  his  rank,  and  to  better  his  fortune  he  moved  from  Penn- 
sylvania to  Georgia,  and  eventually  settled  in  Wilkes  (now  Tal- 
iaferro) County,  in  that  State.  At  this  time  he  had  a  not  in- 
considerable family  of  children — five  daughters  and  three  sons. 
One  of  the  latter,  Andrew  B.  Stephens,  became  a  school-master, 
and  Avith  his  first  earnings  purchased  a  farm  of  one  hundred 
acres  on  "  the  Kettle  Creek,  in  Georgia."  In  a  rude  log-cabin 
upon  this  farm,  on  the  11th  of  February,  1812,  a  son  was  born 
to  Margaret  Grier  Stephens,  the  wife  of  Andrew  B.  Stephens. 
He  was  named  Alexander  Stephens. 

The  child  was  weak  and  delicate  from  his  birth.  Yet  from 
his  earliest  infancy  he  was  accustomed  to  endure  and  to  toil. 
At  no  time  during  his  eventful  life  did  he  know  a  day  which 
was  not  devoted  to  hard  work  or  passed  in  bravely  bearing  the 


432  Twelve  Americans. 

most  terrible  pain.  His  father  was  poor  almost  to  abject  pov- 
erty, and  even  the  little  help  which  the  infant  could  render  the 
family  was  not  only  acceptable  but  necessary. 

During  his  childhood  he  had  but  scant  opportunity  of  ac- 
quiring an  education.  In  those  old  days  the  much-abused 
"  Radicals  and  Carpet-baggers  "  had  not  yet  appeared  to  estab- 
lish the  common-school  system  in  the  South,  and  what  little 
learning  the  child  had  before  entering  his  teens  was  picked  up 
in  the  rough-and-tumble  of  what  were  then  called  "  the  old 
field-schools." 

Mr.  Stephens's  recollections  of  that  time  were  always  ex- 
ceedingly interesting,  illustrating  as  they  did  the  manners  and 
customs  of  an  almost  forgotten  epoch  in  the  history  of  the 
country.  He  remembered  vividly  and  delighted  to  recall  his 
first  teacher,  a  man  named  Day,  who,  like  many  of  his  asso- 
ciates then  living  in  Georgia,  had  a  weakness  for  drinking 
strong  whiskey,  and  who,  according  to  the  familiar  expression 
of  the  time,  was  frequently  "  disguised"  by  over-indulgence. 

In  short,  Mr.  Day  was  the  counterpart  of  that  equally  distin- 
guished Georgia  school-master  who,  on  the  eve  of  a  horse-race, 
addressed  his  pupils  about  as  follows : 

"  Boys,  of  course  you  know  there's  going  to  be  a  horse-race 
in  town  to-morrow — you  always  know  all  about  such  wicked- 
ness. Boys,  I  warn  you,  don't  go  to  that  race.  But,  boys,  if 
you  must  go,  if  you  do  go,  I  warn  you,  don't  bet — whatever 
you  do,  for  the  good  Lord's  sake,  don't  bet.  Still,  boys,  if  you 
must  bet,  if  you  do  bet — now,  just  mind  what  I  tell  you — if 
you  do  bet,  be  sure  to  bet  on  Gordon's  mare  !  " 

It  was  the  custom  at  the  time  in  question  to  give  Georgia 
school-children  a  holiday  at  Whitsuntide  ;  but,  because  of  some 
breach  of  discipline,  School-master  Day,  during  young  Aleck's 
attendance,  decided  that  the  privilege  should  not  be  granted. 
There  was  a  rebellion  in  consequence,  and  "  the  big  boys  "  in  the 
school,  with  that  spirit  of  good-natured  lawlessness  character- 


A  Man  of  the  South.  433 

istic  of  Southern  youth,  entered  into  a  conspiracy  to  resist  the 
authority  of  the  master.  Harry  Perkins,  a  stout  and  daring 
lad,  was  the  ringleader,  and  it  was  arranged  that  on  the  morn- 
ing of  Whit-Monday  he,  at  the  head  of  his  fellow-conspirators, 
was  to  bar  up  the  school-house  door  and  refuse  to  admit  the 
teacher  until  he  consented  to  give  the  holiday.  Before  this 
programme  could  be  carried  out,  however,  and  two  days  before 
the  holiday-time  came,  young  Perkins,  for  insolent  conduct, 
was  called  up  to  be  whipped.  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  state 
that  in  the  school  presided  over  by  Mr.  Day  the  birch-rod  was 
the  sceptre  which  usually  ruled  supreme.  Perkins  went  to  the 
desk  as  ordered,  but,  instead  of  quietly  submitting  to  the  flog- 
ging with  which  he  was  threatened,  he  took  the  half-drunken 
Day  by  the  collar  and  tore  the  rod  from  his  hand. 

In  a  twinkling  the  school -master  was  borne  to  the  floor, 
the  followers  of  Perkins  quickly  joined  in  the  melee,  and  in 
the  end  Mr.  Day,  beaten,  bruised,  and  thoroughly  frightened, 
agreed  that  he  would  dismiss  the  school  for  a  three  days'  holi- 
day, and  treat  the  elder  boys  to  a  gallon  of  whiskey !  Upon 
these  terms,  which  were  regularly  stipulated  for  by  the  young 
conspirators,  he  was  released.  A  small  boy  was  sent  to  a  neigh- 
boring store  for  the  whiskey,  and,  together  with  a  number  of 
his  pupils,  the  school-master  drank  the  jug  empty,  going  home 
at  the  end  of  the  spree  very  much  "  disguised."  It  is  worthy 
of  note  that  the  affair,  being  by  no  means  an  unusual  one  in 
those  days,  attracted  but  little  attention.  At  the  end  of  the 
holiday  which  the  boys  had  exacted  the  school  went  on  as 
usual. 

II. 

A   CHILD   OF   SORROW. 

Surrounded  by  such  scenes,  and  under  such  a  master,  it  is, 
perhaps,  needless  to  state  that  the  weak  and  sickly  Alexan- 
der Stephens  failed  to  acquire  much  learning.     Indeed,  until 

19 


434  Twelve  Americans. 

his  sixteenth  year  his  knowledge  of  books  continued  to  be 
very  slight ;  but  in  the  school  of  sad  experience — in  the  field, 
the  garden,  the  kitchen ;  during  the  torrid  heat  of  the  South- 
ern summer  and  the  penetrating  cold  of  wet  and  cheerless 
Georgia  Novembers ;  at  his  mother's  lonely  grave,  at  the  bed- 
side of  his  dying  father;  during  the  breaking-up  and  scat- 
tering of  his  family ;  alone  in  his  orphanage,  uncared  for  and 
cast  out  upon  his  own  resources — he  gained  a  practical  knowl- 
edge of  the  world,  a  strength  of  purpose,  and  a  determination 
to  resist  wrong,  to  endure  pain,  and  to  fight  against  bodily 
weakness,  which  but  few  grown  men  ever  attain. 

His  father  and  mother  died  when  he  was  still  a  boy,  and 
for  many  years  his  young  life  was  saddened  by  a  sorrow  under 
which  it  seemed  at  times  as  if  he  must  give  way.  In  a  jour- 
nal, written  years  afterward,  when  his  name  had  become  known 
all  over  the  land,  he  says,  respecting  this  time  in  his  life  and 
the  death  of  his  father:  "I  was  young,  without  experience, 
knew  nothing  of  men  or  their  dealings;  and  when  I  stood  by 
his  bedside  and  saw  him  breathe  his  last,  and  with  that  last 
breath  my  last  hope  expire,  such  a  flood  of  grief  rushed  into 
my  heart  as  almost  burst  it.  No  language  can  tell  the  deep 
anguish  that  filled  a  heart  so  young;  the  earth,  grass,  trees, 
sky,  everything,  looked  dreary ;  life  seemed  not  worth  living, 
and  I  longed  to  take  my  peaceful  sleep  by  my  father's  side." 

Despite  the  feeling  of  loneliness  and  melancholy  which  thus 
early  took  possession  of  him,  however,  young  Stephens,  even 
in  his  teens,  developed  a  spirit,  courage,  and  daring  which  was 
not  at  all  in  keeping  with  his  weak  and  sickly  frame.  After 
his  father's  death  he  went  to  live  with  an  uncle,  and  was  placed 
in  a  school  presided  over  by  "  an  Irish  exile "  named  O'Cava- 
nagh.  One  day,  during  his  first  week  under  this  new  master, 
he  was  asked  to  spell  "Arabia,"  the  school-master,  in  his  raw 
brogue  and  broad,  old-fashioned  way  of  sounding  the  vowel 
"a,"  pronouncing  the  word  " Ah-rab-ya."     Young  Alexander, 


A  Man  of  the  South.  435 

though  noted  as  an  exceedingly  good  speller,  could  not  for  the 
life  of  him  make  out  what  word  the  school-master  was  trying 
to  pronounce,  and  said,  quietly,  "  I  can't  spell  it,  sir." 

To  this  O'Cavanagh,  in  a  passion,  replied, 

"  You  confounded  young  rascal,  don't  tell  me  you  can't  spell 
it !     Bad  luck  to  you,  spell  '  Ah-rab-yah  !'  " 

No  man  had  ever  before  spoken  to  the  boy  in  such  tones; 
and  at  once,  white  with  anger  and  mortification,  shaking  his 
puny  fist  with  rage,  he  jumped  to  his  feet,  and  through  his 
clinched  teeth  hissed  out, 

"  Mr.  O'Cavanagh,  I  can  spell  every  word  in  this  lesson,  if 
pronounced  as  I  pronounce,  but  I  thought  it  better  to  tell  you 
that  I  could  not  spell  the  word  as  you  gave  it,  than  to  say  I  did 
not  understand  you.  It  was  bad  enough  for  me  to  miss  the 
word  because  of  your  queer  pronunciation  of  it;  but  you  shall 
not  speak  to  me  again  in  the  way  you  have  just  done !" 

At  once  the  school  was  in  an  uproar,  and  many  of  the  larger 
boys,  taught  by  experience,  expected  to  see  Alexander  severely 
whipped.  But  O'Cavanagh  seemed  intuitively  to  know  the  spirit 
with  which  he  had  to  deal,  and,  turning  away  from  the  angry 
boy,  he  dismissed  the  class,  and  the  scene  ended. 

Regarding  this  incident  in  his  life,  Mr.  Stephens,  in  a  private 
letter  to  Mr.  Richard  Malcolm  Johnson,  one  of  his  next  and 
truest  friends — a  letter  written  long  afterward — said:  "This  was 
an  epoch  in  my  young  career.  It  was  the  first  time  I  had  ever 
faced  a  man  as  his  equal.  From  that  time  my  character  was  set. 
It  was  also  established  in  the  estimation  of  that  school.  Up 
to  that  time  I  was  looked  upon  as  a  sort  of  poor,  pitiful  orphan 
boy,  whom  most  treated  with  passing  kindness  from  mere  feel- 
ings of  sympathy.  It  was  known  that  my  parents  had  just 
died,  and  my  whole  bearing  was  one  of  deep  grief;  but  on  that 
evening  the  big  boys  on  my  road  home  walked  with  my  brother 
and  myself — a  thing  they  had  never  done  before — and  talked 
of  nothing  else  but  my  adventure.     From  that  day  they  looked 


436  Twelve  Americans. 

upon  me  in  an  altogether  different  light  from  what  they  had 
done  before." 

From  the  time  of  this  episode  onward  young  Stephens's 
progress  in  the  day-school  and  in  the  Sunday-school,  to  which 
he  became  attached,  was  so  rapid  as  to  attract  the  attention  of 
three  philanthropic  gentlemen — Messrs.  Mills  and  Williams, 
connected  with  the  Sunday-school,  and  Alexander  Hamilton 
Webster,  a  Presbyterian  minister,  out  of  affection  for  whom 
the  boy  subsequently  named  himself  Alexander  Hamilton  Ste- 
phens.* These  gentlemen  became  greatly  interested  in  his 
welfare,  and  judging,  perhaps,  from  his  reserved  and  melan- 
choly manner,  that  he  had  what  certain  church-people  term  "  a 
call "  to  preach  the  Gospel,  they  determined  to  send  him  to  the 
University  of  Georgia,  that  he  might  be  educated  for  the  min- 
istry. Without  any  knowledge  as  to  their  ultimate  object  the 
boy  gladly  accepted  the  opportunity  of  going  to  college.  Con- 
cerning his  examination  for  the  university  he  cherished  the 
liveliest  recollections.  Some  years  ago,  in  speaking  with 
friends  upon  the  subject,  he  said,  in  substance, 

"  On  the  day  of  that  examination  I  happened  to  meet  with 
one  of  the  rarest  pieces  of  luck — indeed,  I  think  it  was  the 
rarest  piece  of  luck — I  have  ever  known  in  my  life.  When  I 
went  up  to  the  college  I  went  alone,  arriving  the  night  before 
Commencement.  The  next  day  candidates  for  admission  were  to 
be  examined  in  the  chapel.  So  ran  the  programme.  At  the  hour 
appointed  I  went  before  the  examiners,  taking  my  Virgil  and 
Greek  Testament  with  me.  At  school  I  had  read  Csesar,  Vir- 
gil, and  Cicero's  orations  against  Catiline.  These,  I  was  told, 
were  all  that  would  be  required.  When  I  went  into  the  chapel 
a  large  class  was  already  seated,  waiting  for  examination,  nearly 
every  member  of  it  coming  from  what  was  known  as  the  gram- 

*  Five  weeks  before  his  death  Mr.  Stephens  wrote  to  me,  asking  that 
these  facts  be  fully  stated  in  the  present  sketch  of  his  life. — H.  C. 


A  Man  of  the  South.  437 

mar-school  connected  with  the  college.  I  took  my  seat  at  the 
foot  of  tbis  class,  feeling  very  foolish,  and  looking,  I  have  no 
doubt,  quite  as  foolish  as  I  felt.  Dr.  Waddell,  the  President  of 
tbe  college,  shortly  began  tbe  examination,  and,  to  my  horror, 
he  commenced  with  Cicero,  the  first  oration  in  the  book,  and 
one  of  which  I  had  never  read  a  line.  What  to  do  I  knew  not. 
I  was  seized  with  despair;  thought  I  was  ruined;  was  sure  I 
should  be  rejected.  I  was  in  agony.  Quickly  borrowing  a 
book  from  one  of  the  boys,  I  looked  over  the  oration,  to  see  if 
I  could  read  any  part  of  it,  but  the  attempt  was  very  far  from 
satisfactory.  For  a  moment  I  thought  of  getting  up  and  rush- 
ing from  the  room,  but  upon  reflection  I  concluded  to  stand  my 
ground,  and,  when  my  turn  came,  to  tell  the  examiners  frankly 
that  I  had  read  but  the  four  orations  against  Catiline,  and  had 
not  reviewed  any  of  them,  as  I  expected  to  be  examined  in  Vir- 
gil alone.  While  I  was  in  this  state  of  anxiety  the  examination 
progressed.  The  second  oration  was  reached.  Soon  afterward 
the  third,  and  then  I  began  to  hope.  I  thought  that  perhaps 
the  orations  against  Catiline  might  be  reached  before  my  turn 
came.  Sure  enough,  they  got  on  with  the  third  oration.  That 
was  passed  ;  then  the  fourth  was  reached,  and,  just  at  this  mo- 
ment, luck,  or  my  guardian  angel,  whichever  you  like,  came  to 
my  relief. 

"  '  Next !'  cried  Dr.  Waddell. 

"  It  was  my  turn,  and  I  arose,  trembling  from  head  to  foot. 

" '  On  the  next  page,'  he  said,  ■  beginning  with  the  words, 
"  Video  duas  adhuc"  ' 

"  I  turned  to  the  paragraph,  and  in  it  recognized  the  only 
part  of  either  of  the  orations  I  had  read  at  school  that  I  re- 
membered perfectly.  I  had  been  very  much  struck  and  much 
impressed  with  it  from  the  first.  It  was  the  passage  in  which 
Cicero  refers  to  the  two  opinions  as  to  what  should  be  done 
with  the  conspirators,  Cato  contending  that  they  shall  be  exe- 
cuted, Caesar  arguing  that  the  gods  alone  should  take  life.     I 


43S  Twelve  Americans. 

■was  deeply  interested  with  these  views  on  reading  them,  as  it 
•was  the  first  time  I  had  ever  heard  the  right  of  capital  punish- 
ment called  into  question,  and  I  perfectly  understood  every 
word  of  the  paragraph  which  I  was  called  on  to  read.  My  tri- 
umph was  complete.  My  good  luck  followed  me  to  the  end, 
and  I  was  assured  on  all  sides  that  I  had  passed  a  very  credit- 
able examination." 

III. 
THE  SECRET   OF  A   LIFE. 

Entering  college  in  this  way,  young  Stephens  was  naturally 
expected  to  do  well,  and  he  did  not  disappoint  such  expecta- 
tions. His  progress  was  rapid,  his  industry  indefatigable,  his 
record  as  a  scholar  most  brilliant. 

Some  time  after  he  had  been  at  the  college  the  project  which 
his  patrons  had  in  regard  to  his  entering  the  ministry  was  dis- 
closed to  him ;  but,  feeling  that  he  was  not  adapted  for  the 
pulpit,  he  declined  to  enter  upon  religious  studies.  At  the 
same  time  he  pledged  himself  to  repay  the  money  which  his 
kind  friends  had  expended  for  his  education.  Subsequently 
he  did  so  to  the  last  penny.* 

*  Mr.  Stephens  never  ceased  to  be  grateful  to  these  good  gentlemen  and 
the  kind  Providence  which  secured  to  him  an  education.  He  not  only  re- 
paid the  former,  but  returned  thanks  to  the  latter  by  doing  as  he  had  been 
done  by.  Upon  this  subject,  in  after-years,  he  wrote,  at  the  request  of  his 
friend,  Richard  Malcolm  Johnston :  "  I  have  assisted  upward  of  thirty 
young  men  in  getting  an  education.  About  a  third  of  these  I  have  taken 
from  the  stump  and  put  through  college.  The  other  two-thirds  I  assisted 
to  graduation,  but  most  of  them  at  a  medical  college.  Out  of  the  whole 
number  only  three  who  have  lived  have  failed  to  refund  the  money.  The 
three  I  have  alluded  to  are,  I  think,  scamps,  except,  perhaps,  one.  One 
who  refunded  I  think  is  a  scamp  also,  though  he  is  a  preacher.  Nine  of 
the  number  I  assisted  are  dead ;  five  of  these  died  before  refunding — two 
died  while  at  school.  Only  four  of  the  number  studied  law.  Six  are 
preachers — four  Baptists,  one  Presbyterian,  and  one  Methodist.  One  of 
them  is  (or  was  when  last  heard  from)  a  man  of  distinction  in  Tennessee — 
a  professor  and  author.     Another  is  at  the  head  of  a  high-school  in  Mis- 


A  Ma?i  of  the  South.  439 

Later  in  life  he  wrote  as  follows  in  regard  to  his  college- 
days: 

"  During  the  four  years  that  I  spent  at  college  I  was  never  absent  from 
roll-call  without  a  good  excuse,  was  never  fined,  and,  to  the  best  of  my  be- 
lief, never  had  a  demerit  marked  against  me  in  college,  or  in  the  society — 
the  Phi  Kappa — to  which  I  belonged.  Not  a  word  of  censure  or  even  of  re- 
proof was  ever  addressed  to  me  by  professor  or  tutor ;  and,  while  I  was  on 
good  terms  with  the  Faculty,  I  was  on  quite  as  good  with  the  boys.  *  *  * 
They  were  by  far  the  happiest  days  of  my  life.  In  memory  they  seem 
more  like  a  dream  than  a  remembered  reality.  The  sudden  change  of  my 
feelings  after  I  left  college  and  went  out  into  the  world  was  like  the 
change  wrought  in  tender  and  luxuriant  vegetation  by  a  severe  and 
sudden  frost.     The  very  soul  of  my  life  seemed  nipped  and  killed." 

With  these  feelings,  on  the  first  Monday  in  August,  1832, 
still  a  child  in  stature,  but  with  a  well-stored  mind,  a  bright 
intellect,  shining  through  almost  supernaturally  brilliant  black 
eyes — eyes  set  in  a  face  which  had  never  known  and  would 
never  know  the  hue  of  health — Alexander  H.  Stephens  grad- 
uated, taking  with  him  the  highest  honors  of  his  class.  His 
high  standing  won  him  much  renown  in  the  college  town,  and 
his  immediate  pecuniary  necessities — he  was  almost  without  a 
penny  in  the  world — were  relieved  by  an  offer  which  he  re- 
ceived, and  accepted,  to  teach  a  high-school  at  Madison,  in  his 
native  State.  He  taught  for  four  months — four  months  which 
he  afterward  recalled  as  the  happiest  and  yet  the  saddest  period 
in  his  life — four  months,  during  which  there  came,  to  him  a 
sorrow  that  he  took  to  his  grave. 

Among  his  pupils  was  a  girl  of  great  beauty  and  gentleness. 

sissippi,  and  another  at  the  head  of  a  high-school  in  Georgia.     Mr. , 

the  preacher,  is,  I  think,  a  shabby  fellow.  He  showed  some  ingratitude. 
The  other  three  I  spoke  of  I  think  shabby,  but  I  never  heard  of  any  ingrat- 
itude. Take  the  whole  lot,  all  in  all,  I  think  very  well  of  them.  The  per 
centum  of  black  sheep  in  the  flock  is  small — not  more  than  one  in  twelve, 
or  thereabouts.  Of  the  number  I  assisted  in  getting  medical  diplomas, 
there  ai*e  now  living  in  the  State  six,  all  clever  physicians  of  good  stand- 
ing. Two  of  the  physicians  died  some  years  ago."  In  all,  Mr.  Stephens 
aided  more  than  one  hundred  and  fifty  young  men  to  an  education. 


440  Twelve  Americans. 

With  all  the  sincerity  and  earnestness  of  a  passionate  and  re- 
fined nature  he  loved  that  girl.  But  he  was  poor — poor  to 
penury.  The  curse  of  ill-health,  which  had  followed  him  from 
his  birth,  clung  to  him  still.  He  had  a  great  mind,  but  he  was 
puny  and  insignificant  in  body.  He  was  assured  by  medical 
advisers,  and  believed,  that  death  might  come  to  him  at  any 
moment.  He  loved  with  an  earnestness,  a  loyalty,  an  unselfish 
devotion  which  few  men  know — loved  with  a  love  which  in  its 
tender  intensity  was  almost  womanish.  But  for  more  than  a 
score  of  years  he  kept  his  secret  to  himself.  No  human  being 
knew  the  cause  of  his  ever-present  melancholy. 

Day  by  day  and  night  by  night  during  that  time  at  Madison 
he  pondered  over  the  affection  which  he  knew  could  bring  him 
nothing  but  sorrow ;  and  at  last  he  determined  to  resign  his 
position  and  leave  the  place.  He  departed  in  the  night,  and  to 
his  faithful  journal — his  only  confidant — he  imparted  the  fact 
that  "  on  that  night  I  drove  all  the  way  to  Crawfordville.  I 
had  a  terrible  headache — a  most  horrible  headache." 

Of  his  wretched  heartache,  of  his  despair  and  misery,  the 
poor  boy,  even  to  his  confidential  journal,  said  never  a  word. 

Years  afterward,  in  writing  to  his  brother,  he  half  drew  the 
curtain  which  had  concealed  his  sorrow,  and,  telling  something 
of  those  days  at  Madison,  said  farther: 

"I  am  tempted  to  tell  you  a  secret.  It  is  the  secret  of  my  life,  and  I 
have  never  told  it  to  any  one ;  but  I  will  tell  it  to  you,  and  I  fear  you  will 
not  believe  it,  but  it  is  true,  and  if  you  have  never  suspected  it,  that 
shows  how  true  I  have  been  to  myself  in  keeping  it.  The  secret  of  my 
life  has  been  revenge  reversed — that  is,  to  rise  superior  to  the  neglect  or 
contumely  of  the  mean  of  mankind,  by  trying  to  do  them  good  instead  of 
harm — a  determination  to  war  even  against  fate,  to  meet  the  world  in  all 
its  forces — to  master  evil  with  good,  and  to  leave  no  foe  standing  in  my 
rear.  My  greatest  courage  has  been  drawn  from  my  deepest  despair,  and 
the  greatest  efforts  of  my  life  have  been  the  fruits  of  a  determination  and 
firm  resolve  excited  by  so  slight  a  thing  as  a  look.  This  feeling,  this  prin- 
ciple— call  it  what  you  will — is  the  mainspring  of  my  action.  When  I 
have  looked  upon  the  world  and  seen  it  filled  with  knaves  and  fools,  and 
have  seen  in  the  whole  waste  not  one  well  of  water  from  which  I  could 


A  Man  of  the  South.  441 

draw  a  drop  to  slake  my  thirsting,  parched  soul ;  with  all  hopes  blighted, 
when  I  have  been  ready  to  lie  down  and  die  under  the  weight  of  that  grief 
which  is  greater  than  all  other  griefs — 

'  A  young  heart  desolate 
In  the  wide  world' — 

I  have  often  had  my  whole  soul  aroused  with  the  fury  of  a  lion  and  the 
ambition  of  a  Caesar  by,  I  repeat,  so  slight  a  thing  as  a  look  ! 

"What  have  I  not  suffered  from  a  look!  What  have  I  not  suffered 
from  the  tone  of  a  remark,  from  a  sense  of  neglect,  from  a  supposed  in- 
jury, an  intended  injury !  But  every  such  pang  was  a  friction  that  brought 
out  the  latent  fires.  My  spirit  of  warring  against  the  world,  however,  never 
held  in  it  anything  of  a  desire  to  crush  or  trample  on  those  who  did  me 
wrong ;  no,  only  a  desire  to  get  above  them — to  excel  them  ;  to  enjoy  the 
gratification  of  seeing  them  feel  that  they  were  wrong,  to  compel  their  ad- 
miration— this  is  the  extent  of  my  ambition,  this  the  length,  breadth^  and 
depth  of  my  revenge." 

Despite  his  sorrow,  despite  his  loneliness,  despite  his  pover- 
ty, his  sickness,  and  his  pain,  Alexander  II.  Stephens,  sustained 
by  a  firm  resolve  to  overcome  all  difficulties,  and  to  live  down 
his  heart-burnings,  left  Madison.  For  a  time  he  continued  to 
earn  a  precarious  livelihood  by  teaching ;  but  finding  that  he 
could  not  hope  to  live  and  continue  this  sedentary  employ- 
ment, he  determined  to  apply  for  admission  to  the  Bar.  He 
had  saved  a  few  dollars,  barely  enough  with  rigid  economy  to 
support  himself  for  three  months,  and  with  the  quick  decision 
and  steadfastness  of  purpose  always  characteristic  of  him,  he 
made  up  his  mind  that  he  would  complete  his  legal  studies 
and  stand  for  examination  at  the  end  of  that  time. 

This  agreement  with  himself  he  faithfully  carried  out. 
Overcoming  his  sickness  and  suffering,  trampling  upon  the 
sorrow  of  his  heart,  untutored,  without  any  assistance  worthy 
of  mention,  he  prepared  himself,  and  at  the  end  of  the  three 
months  passed  a  most  creditable  examination,  and  was  recognized 
as  a  member  of  the  Bar  of  the  Northern  Circuit  of  Georgia. 

Fortune  now  began  to  smile  upon  him.  Or  perhaps  it 
would  be  better  to  say  that  he  worked  hard  for  success,  and, 
deserving  to  succeed,  succeeded. 

19* 


442  Twelve  Americans. 

One  of  his  earliest  cases  made  him  famous  throughout  a 
large  section  of  his  State.  The  subject  of  the  litigation  was 
this  :  Uriah  Battle,  a  son  of  Isaac  Battle,  had  married  Amanda 
Askew,  of  the  County  of  Hancock,  Georgia.  The  result  of 
this  marriage  was  the  birth  of  a  daughter,  shortly  after  which 
event  the  husband  died.  The  elder  Battle  then  took  out  let- 
ters of  guardianship  over  the  person  and  property  of  the  child. 
Subsequently  the  widow  married  a  man  of  intemperate  habits, 
who  was  exceedingly  objectionable  to  Battle,  and  he,,  because 
of  this  dislike,  and  by  virtue  of  his  letters  of  guardianship, 
claimed  possession  of  the  child.  The  mother  would  not  give 
up  her  infant,  and  the  grandfather  hired  a  man  to  gain  posses- 
sion of  it  by  stratagem.  This  man  called  at  the  house  of  the 
mother",  petted  the  child,  won  its  confidence,  took  it  in  his 
arms,  and  with  it  hurried  from  the  house.  Although  pursued 
by  the  mother,  he  succeeded  in  delivering  it  into  the  hands  of 
its  grandfather.  Mr.  Stephens  was  retained  by  the  mother  to 
regain  for  her  the  custody  of  her  child.  The  case  excited 
much  interest  throughout  the  Counties  of  Hancock  and  Talia- 
ferro. When  the  trial  came  on  the  county  seat  was  crowded 
with  people  from  near  and  far.  The  young  lawyer  who  was 
to  defend  the  mother  felt  that  the  opportunity  of  his  life 
had  come.  He  spared  no  pains  to  make  himself  thoroughly 
acquainted  with  every  point  of  law  in  the  case,  and  the  address 
which  he  intended  to  make  had  been  rehearsed  again  and  again 
to  imaginary  audiences  in  the  solitude  of  the  pine-woods. 

At  last  the  great  day  came.  The  counsel  for  the  grand- 
father was  a  lawyer  known  throughout  the  State.  "With  the 
fullest  confidence  as  to  the  result,  he  delivered  his  address  to 
the  court.  The  law  seemed  to  be  all  with  him.  The  intem- 
perance of  the  step-father,  his  low  and  dissolute  habits,  were 
made  the  most  of,  and  it  seemed  to  be  a  foregone  conclusion 
that  the  Judges  would  give  the  child  into  the  keeping  of  its 
eminently-respected  and  venerable  grandfather. 


A  Man  of  the  South.  443 

Then  came  Mr.  Stephens's  turn  to  address  the  court.  Pale 
and  trembling,  he  arose  in  the  crowded  court-room.  He  was 
still  a  child  in  stature.  At  this  time  his  waist  measured  twen- 
ty inches.  He  weighed  less  than  ninety  pounds.  His  appear- 
ance first  excited  the  utmost  surprise,  and  then  commanded 
the  closest  attention.  He  commenced  to  speak  in  a  voice 
which  was  almost  inaudible,  but,  little  by  little,  warming  with 
his  subject,  he  grew  bold,  then  passionate,  and  in  the  end  the 
great  gift  of  eloquence  which  Nature  had  bestowed  upon  him, 
as  if  in  recompense  for  his  many  bodily  ailments,  found  full 
vent.  In  vivid  colors  he  pictured  the  grief  of  the  young  moth- 
er who  had  been  bereft  of  her  offspring — he  pleaded  for  the 
custody  of  the  child  as  though  he  himself  had  been  its  mother 
— appealed  to  the  great  law  of  nature  which  must  overwhelm 
and  sink  out  of  sight  all  human  statutes — argued  with  great 
force  in  support  of  the  sacred  rights  of  maternity  —  and,  in 
spite  of  his  passionate  oratory  never  for  a  moment  losing 
sight  of  the  law  in  the  case,  he  won  not  only  the  sympathies 
but  the  acquiescence  of  the  Judges.  Strong  men  were  aroused 
by  his  eloquence,  and  women  wept  aloud.     The  cause  was  won. 

The  Judges,  in  full  sympathy  with  the  young  lawyer,  gave 
the  child  to  the  arms  of  its  mother.  Alexander  H.  Stephens's 
success  in  the  suit  made  his  early  reputation.  The  people 
among  whom  he  lived,  appreciating  the  gift  of  eloquence  with 
a  far  deeper  sense  and  understanding  than  do  the  men  of  any 
other  section  of  this  country,  at  once  recognized  him  as  a  man 
of  great  promise,  and  from  that  time  on  his  fame  as  a  lawyer 
was  established. 

Some  months  after  his  first  legal  success  Mr.  Stephens 
found  time  and  opportunity  to  visit  Washington,  and  while 
there  called  upon  the  President,  Andrew  Jackson. 

A  few  days  before,  the  memorable  outbreak  among  the 
Creek  Indians  had  occurred,  and  a  number  of  passengers  in 
the  United  States  mail-coaches  had  been  massacred  by  the 


444  Twelve  Americans. 

savages.  Mr.  Stephens  found  the  President  sitting  quietly  by 
an  open  fire,  in  dressing-gown  and  slippers,  his  pipe  lying  on 
the  floor  by  his  side.  There  was  but  little  formality  about 
the  White  House  in  those  days. 

When  young  Stephens  had  paid  his  respects  to  the  Presi- 
dent one  of  Jackson's  first  inquiries  was, 

"  What's  the  news  from  Georgia  ?" 

The  young  lawyer  replied  that  there  was  nothing  new,  ex- 
cept the  outbreak  of  the  Indians  and  the  murder  of  the  mail- 
coach  passengers  on  the  route  between  Columbus,  Georgia,  and 
Montgomery,  Alabama. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  replied  the  President,  "  I  have  just  heard  of  it,  and 
can't  understand  it.  In  the  name  of  God,  where  is  Major  How- 
ard ?  I  thought  he  had  been  placed  at  the  head  of  a  battalion  to 
resist  any  outbreak  which  might  occur  among  the  Indians." 

"  He  was  down  near  Florence  at  the  last  advices,"  replied 
Stephens. 

"  Why  didn't  he  immediately  move  his  forces  across  the 
river  ?" 

"  I  can't  say,  sir,"  replied  the  visitor.  "  But  there  may  be 
some  question  of  jurisdiction.  His  company,  you  know,  is 
made  up  of  citizens  of  Georgia,  and  it  is  probable  that  he 
would  have  no  authority  to  operate  in  Alabama." 

"Jurisdiction!  Authority!  By  the  Eternal!  When  the 
United  States  mail  is  attacked  and  robbed,  and  United  States 
citizens  murdered,  why  should  people  quibble  about  jurisdiction  ?" 

Then  springing  to  his  feet  and  continuing,  the  President 
asked, 

"  In  the  name  of  God,  how  big  a  place  is  this  Columbus?" 

"  It  has  about  three  thousand  inhabitants,  sir." 

"  Then  its  men  should  turn  out  in  force  and  drive  back  the 
Indians,"  said  Jackson,  and  without  more  ado  he  rang  for  his 
secretary,  and  set  about  arranging  a  plan  by  which  any  farther 
depredations  by  the  Creeks  might  be  resisted. 


A  Man  of  the  South.  445 


IV. 

AN  INDEPENDENT  WHIG.— THE   LOVE   OF  A  BROTHER. 

Returning  to  his  home  after  his  first  visit  to  Washington, 
Mr.  Stephens  continued  the  practice  of  law  until  1836,  when 
he  became  a  candidate  for  the  State  Legislature.  At  this  time 
and  for  years  afterward  he  had  a  strong  leaning  toward  the 
Whig  Party,  but  he  was  then,  as  ever,  most  independent  in  his 
political  action.  Indeed,  later  on,  when  he  became  recognized 
as  one  of  the  Whig  leaders,  he  was  ever  ready  to  quarrel  with 
his  party  and  to  advocate  principles  which  he  believed  to  be 
just,  no  matter  how  much  they  might  be  at  variance  with  the 
interests  of  the  organization. 

His  first  contest  for  the  Legislature  is  still  remembered  in 
Georgia.  He  was  opposed  by  men  of  the  greatest  influence  in 
his  county,  but  the  people  sustained  him,  and  he  was  elected. 
He  served  for  a  number  of  years,  both  in  the  lower  House  and 
in  the  Senate,  varying  his  duties  by  a  trip  to  Charleston,  S.  C, 
where  he  appeared  as  a  delegate  to  the  Southern  Commercial 
Convention.  In  that  body  he  excited  much  attention  by  dis- 
puting a  position  which  was  taken  by  the  aristocratic  Mr.  Pres- 
ton, of  the  Palmetto  State,  and  defeating  that  would-be  great 
man  on  his  own  ground. 

By  his  services  in  the  Legislature,  which  were  always  disin- 
terested and  directed  to  the  general  welfare,  Mr.  Stephens  won 
the  esteem  of  all  parties  in  Georgia,  and  in  1843,  when  a 
vacancy  occurred  in  the  Congressional  delegation  from  that 
State,  he  received  the  Whig  nomination  for  the  seat.  James 
H.  Starke,  one  of  the  best  known  Democrats  in  the  South,  was 
his  opponent,  and  the  canvass  was  opened  amid  almost  unpar- 
alleled excitement.  Following  the  old  and  admirable  South- 
ern fashion  of  conducting  a  political  campaign,  the  young  can- 
didate met  his  rival  and  the  prominent  speakers  of  the  rival 


446  Twelve  Americans. 

party  in  "joint  discussions."  From  one  end  of  the  State  to 
the  other  he  debated  with  them  the  political  issues  then  before 
the  people,  and  completely  defeated  their  most  distinguished 
orators.     The  result  was  his  triumphant  election. 

The  first  speech  which  he  made  in  Congress  was  directly 
against  his  own  interest.  The  Legislature  of  Georgia,  previous 
to  the  campaign  in  which  he  succeeded,  had  refused  to  comply 
with  the  Congressional  requirement  that  the  State  should  be 
divided  into  districts,  taking  such  action  on  the  ground  that  the 
district  system  as  proposed  was  a  direct  infringement  upon  that 
clause  in  the  National  Constitution  which  reserves  to  the  separate 
States  the  right  of  prescribing  "  the  times,  places,  and  manner 
of  holding  elections  for  Senators  and  Representatives."  Under 
the  old  system  Mr.  Stephens  and  his  associates  from  Georgia 
were  elected  on  a  "general  ticket,"  and  it  was  held  by  many 
prominent  members  of  the  House  that  they  were  not  entitled 
to  seats.  During  the  debates  which  followed  Mr.  Stephens 
actually  took  sides  with  those  who  were  working  to  unseat 
him,  and,  believing  that  it  was  right,  made  a  strong  speech  in 
favor  of  the  district  system.  But  a  majority  of  the  House  de- 
cided that  the  Georgia  members  had  been  legally  elected,  and 
they  were  allowed  to  keep  their  seats.  In  after-years  Mr.  Ste- 
phens was  elected  to  the  Twenty-ninth,  Thirtieth,  Thirty-first, 
Thirty-second,  Thirty -third,  Thirty-fourth,  Thirty-fifth,  and,  af- 
ter the  war,  to  the  Forty-third,  Forty-fourth,  Forty-fifth,  Forty- 
sixth,  and  Forty-seventh  Congress.  In  1866  he  was  elected  to 
the  United  States  Senate ;  but  the  reconstruction  of  "  the  lately 
rebellious  States"  not  being  complete,  he  was  refused  admission. 

Of  his  services  in  Congress— services  which  have  already  been 
fully  detailed  in  other  publications — but  little  need  be  said  in 
tiiis  sketch.  It  is  worthy  of  note,  however,  and  not  generally 
known,  that  by  his  influence,  used  during  the  memorable  con- 
test for  the  Speakership  of  the  House  of  Representatives — be- 
tween Vinton,  of  Ohio,  and  Winthrop,  of  Massachusetts — the 


A  Man  of  the  South.  447 

latter  was  elected.  In  this  struggle  Mr.  Stephens  braved  the 
eensure  of  his  constituents,  and  to  a  great  extent  of  the  entire 
South,  by  lending  his  support  to  the  Representative  from  New 
England. 

During  the  Thirty -first  Congress,  as  but  few  persons  are 
aware,  it  was  through  his  efforts  that  the  "  legislative  day,"  as 
it  is  called,  was  changed,  and  the  time  of  the  ending  of  the 
political  year  altered.  Up  to  that  period  the  life  of  a  Congress 
was  believed  to  expire  at  midnight  of  the  third  day  of  March, 
and  as  the  hour  approached  for  its  close  much  trickery  was 
resorted  to,  by  putting  back  the  dial-hands  of  the  Senate  and 
House  clocks.  Mr.  Stephens  held  that  the  political  year  should 
end  on  the  fourth  day  of  March,  at  noon.  He  offered  a  reso- 
lution providing  for  the  termination  of  the  Congressional  term 
and  session  at  the  latter  date  and  hour,  and,  being  sustained 
by  Speaker  Cobb,  carried  the  measure  through. 

Regarding  the  men  with  whom  he  served  in  Congress*  Mr. 


*  Among  the  mementos  of  his  Congressional  career  particularly  cher- 
ished by  Mr.  Stephens  was  the  following  poem,  written  by  John  Quiucy 
Adams : 

"  TO  ALEXANDER  II.  STEPHENS,  ESQ.,  OP   GEORGIA. 
"  H.  E.,  U.  S.,  14th  June,  1844. 

"  Say,  by  what  sympathetic  charm, 
What  mystic  magnet's  secret  sway, 
Drawn  by  some  unresisted  arm, 
We  come  from  regions  far  away  ? 

"From  North  and  South,  from  East  and  West, 
Here  in  the  People's  Hall  we  meet, 
To  execute  their  high  behest 
In  council  and  communion  sweet. 

"  We  meet  as  strangers  in  this  hall, 
But  when  our  task  of  duty's  done 
We  blend  the  common  good  of  all, 
And  melt  the  multitude  in  one. 

"As  strangers  in  this  hall  we  met; 
But  now  with  one  united  heart, 
Whate'er  of  life  awaits  us  yet, 
In  cordial  friendship  let  us  part. 

"John  Quincy  Adams,  of  Quincy,  Mass." 


448  Twelve  Americans. 

Stephens  in  after-years  seldom  spoke  save  in  terms  of  praise. 
If  he  could  not  say  something  pleasant  about  them,  he  pre- 
ferred to  say  nothing. 

During  the  first  years  of  his  service  in  Washington,  however, 
he  gave  no  sign  of  this  disinclination  to  criticise  his  associates. 
Indeed,  he  was  rather  fond  of  detailing,  in  a  friendly  way,  their 
many  peculiarities.  In  a  long  and  very  entertaining  letter  writ- 
ten to  his  brother  during  those  early  days  he  has  much  to  say 
of  the  Members  and  Senators  who  were  prominent  during  the 
olden  time.  The  following  extract  from  that  letter  graphical- 
ly portrays  a  scene  in  the  old  Senate : 

"Millard  Fillmore  occupies  the  conspicuous  seat  erected  for  the  second 
officer  of  the  Government.  *  *  *  His  countenance  is  open  and  bland,  his 
chest  full.  His  eye  is  bright,  blue,  and  intelligent;  his  hair  thick  and 
slightly  gray.  His  personal  appearance  is  striking,  and  no  one  can  look 
at  him  without  feeling  conscious  that  he  is  a  man  far  above  the  average. 
On  his  right,  near  the  aisle  leading  to  the  front  door,  sits  Cass,  with  his 
arms  folded  in  his  lap,  as  if  to  hold  up  his  protruding  and  superincumbent 
abdomen,  his  sleepy-looking  eyes  occasionally  glancing  at  the  galleries  and 
then  at  the  crowd  pressing  in  below.  Benton  sits  in  his  well-known  place, 
leaning  back  in  his  chair,  and  giving  all  who  desire  it  a  full  view  of  his 
person.  One  vacant  seat  is  seen  not  far  off  on  the  same  side  of  the  House. 
A  vacant  seat  in  such  a  crowd  excites  the  attention  of  all.  '  Whose  seat 
is  that  ?'  goes  in  whispers  around.  '  It  is  Calhoun's — not  well  enough  to 
be  out  yet.'  '  Who  is  that  sitting  by  Cass  ?'  says  one.  '  That  is  Buchanan 
— come  all  the  way  from  home  to  hear  Clay.'  '  What  thin-visaged  man  is 
that  standing  over  yonder  and  constantly  moving  ?'  '  What,  that  old  skel- 
eton of  a  man  yonder  ?'  'Yes.'  'That  is  Ritchie,  of  the  Union.''  'Who 
is  that  walking  down  the  aisle,  with  that  uncouth  coat  and  all  that  hair 
about  his  chin  ?  Did  you  ever  see  such  a  swaggerer !  He  can't  be  a  Sen- 
ator.' '  That  is  Sam  Houston.'  '  But  where  is  Webster !  I  don't  see  him.' 
'  He  is  in  the  Supreme  Court,  where  he  has  a  case  to  argue  to-day.'  See 
Corwin,  and  Badger,  and  Berrian,  and  Dawson,  all  near  Clay ;  all  of  them 
quiet,  while  Clay  pursues  his  writing.  On  the  opposite  side,  Butler,  and 
Foote,  and  Clemens,  and  Douglas.  *  *  *  After  the  carriage  of  the  motion 
of  Mr.  Mangum  to  proceed  to  the  consideration  of  the  order  of  the  day, 
Mr.  Clay  folds  his  papers  and  puts  them  in  his  desk,  and,  after  the  busi- 
ness is  announced,  rises  gracefully  and  majestically.  Instantaneously  there 
is  a  general  applause,  which  Mr.  Clay  seems  not  to  notice.  The  noise  with- 
in is  heard  without,  and  the  great  crowd  raised  such  a  shout  that  Mr.  Clay 
had  to  pause  until  the  officers  went  out  and  cleared  all  the  entrances,  and 


A  Man  of  the  South.  449 

then  he  began.  He  spoke  on  that  day  two  hours  and  fifteen  minutes.  The 
speech  was  reported  in  the  Globe  word  for  word  as  he  uttered  it.  I  never 
saw  such  a  report  before.  His  voice  was  good,  his  enunciation  clear  and 
distinct,  his  action  firm,  his  strength  far  surpassing  my  expectation.  He 
had  the  riveted  gaze  of  the  multitude  the  whole  time.  When  he  con- 
cluded an  immense  throng  of  friends,  both  men  and  women,  came  up  to 
congratulate  and  to  hiss  him." 

"  We  never  have  such  scenes  in  the  Senate  now,"  I  one  day 
said  to  Mr.  Stephens,  in  commenting  upon  this  description  of 
Clay's  triumph. 

"  No,"  he  replied,  laughing  good-humoredly,  "  it  is  no  longer 
the  fashion  to  kiss  Senators  after  their  great  speeches — at  least, 
not  in  public." 

It  is  noteworthy  that,  during  many  years  of  his  life,  Mr. 
Stephens  corresponded  in  the  most  unreserved  fashion  with 
the  brother,  or,  to  be  entirely  accurate,  the  half-brother,  Linton 
Stephens,  to  whom  the  letter  quoted  above  was  written.  He 
wrote  to  him  upon  all  sorts  of  subjects — politics,  religion, 
household  matters,  odds  and  ends.  If  he  was  in  trouble,  a 
letter  to  Linton  was  his  consolation ;  if  he  was  pleased,  Linton 
was  immediately  made  to  share  his  pleasure ;  in  joy  and  in  sor- 
row, victory  or  defeat,  the  ever-faithful  Linton  was  his  confi- 
dant. Nothing  was  allowed  to  interrupt  this  remarkable  cor- 
respondence. Death  alone  could  close  it.  Many  of  the  letters 
written  by  Mr.  Stephens  during  its  continuance  are  of  much 
historical  value,  while  others  are  most  interesting,  because  of 
the  fact  that  they  give  a  charming  insight  into  the  mournfully- 
pathetic  side  of  a  great  man's  nature.  The  following  extracts, 
taken  almost  at  random  from  a  mass  of  similar  matter,  may 
give  some  faint  idea  of  Mr.  Stephens's  many-sided  character 
and  habit  of  thought. 

On  the  27th  of  May,  1844,  during  his  first  Congressional 
term,  he  writes  from  Washington  : 

"  This  day,  eight  years  ago,  I  was  in  this  city  for  the  first  time.  What 
changes  have  taken  place  in  the  world  without  and  the  world  within  since 


45o  Twelve  Americans. 

that  time !  Who  can  tell  what  changes  are  in  store  for  the  next  eight 
years  to  come  ?  If  the  curtain  could  be  raised,  what  disclosures,  what 
griefs,  what  troubles  and  cares  and  deeds  of  Death  would  be  seen !  What 
phantoms  our  hopes  and  ambitions  would  seem  to  be ! 

"  Jud<*e  Story  says  that  he  never  told  but  one  anecdote,  and  he  used  to 
tell  that  upon  all  occasions,  until  Webster  stole  it  from  him,  and  once  had 
the  impudence  to  tell  it  in  his  presence.  After  that  he  forswore  anec- 
dotes.    This,  of  course,  was  all  fudge,  for  he  is  always  telling  anecdotes. 

*  *  *  Ewing  is  a  great  hand  at  puns.  For  instance,  this  morning,  at  the 
table,  in  speaking  of  the  abilities  of  the  lawyers  and  judges  of  England, 
and  among  them  Scarlett,  Ewing  remarked  that  he  was  certainly  the 
deepest  red  man  of  any  of  them." 

Returning  to  his  Georgia  home  from  the  Capitol,  Mr.  Ste- 
phens writes  to  Linton  as  follows: 

"Last  night  I  had  a  corn-shucking.  About  thirty  or  forty  negroes  as- 
sembled, shucked  out  all  the  pile,  and  after  that,  according  to  custom, 
claimed  the  right  of  carrying  me — '  the  boss ' — about  over  the  yard  and 
through  the  house,  singing  and  cutting  all  sorts  of  capers.  I  thought  dis- 
cretion was  the  better  part  of  valor,  and  did  not  resist  the  '  toting '  cus- 
tom. The  sport  seemed  to  amuse  the  negroes  very  much ;  and  when  they 
had  got  their  hands  in  with  me,  they  took  brother  John  and  John  Tilly 
and  carried  them  both  through  the  rocking  and  tossing  process.  This 
sport,  as  you  may  know,  is  like  that  which  Sancho  Panza  fell  in  with  once. 
They  put  their  victim  in  a  chair,  and  then  swing  him  to  and  fro  in  the  air 
as  high  as  their  long  arms  will  permit.  *  *  *  Since  I  have  been  keeping 
Bachelor's  Hall,  'Bob'  [his  faithful  servant  and  factotum]  has  been  kept 
at  home  more  than  his  wont.  He  is  now  the  main  man  upon  the  place — 
attends  to  the  horse  and  hogs,  brings  in  breakfast,  dinner,  and  supper; 
pours  out  the  coffee,  and  waits  upon  the  table.  Old  Mat  cooks,  and  Bob 
and  Pierce  do  the  rest.  Who  carries  the  keys  I  don't  know.  I  have  laid 
in  a  supply  of  sugar,  coffee,  tea,  etc. ;  but  where  it  is  kept  and  who  keeps 
it  I  don't  know.  *  *  *  Bob  told  me  the  other  day  he  would  have  to  buy 
some  chickens  somewhere  before  long.  I  told  him  to  buy  them,  and  we 
continue  to  have  chicken  every  day,  but  I  can't  tell  where  they  come  from. 
To-day  I  missed  Bob  at  dinner,  and  was  told  he  had  gone  to  mill ;  so  I 
conclude  that  we  are  out  of  meal,  or  that  Bob  wanted  to  take  an  airing. 

*  *  *  The  night  is  lovely  beyond  description.  The  moon  shines  bright,  the 
air  just  stirs  enough  to  rustle  slightly  among  the  now  full-grown  leaves. 
The  whippoorwill  is  heard  at  a  distance,  and  ever  and  anon  the  mocking- 
bird sends  forth  his  sweet  notes  upon  the  bosom  of  the  breeze.  To  sit  at 
my  window  and  look  out  upon  the  sleeping  earth  is  like  listening  to  sweet 
music." 


A  Mem  of  the  South.  451 

In  January,  1845,  writing  from  Washington  of  a  great  scene 
in  the  House,  he  says : 

"  Last  night  Mr.  Clay  made  a  show  on  the  Colonization  question,  and 
such  a  show  I  never  saw  before.  Men  came  from  Baltimore,  Philadel- 
phia, and  New  York,  to  say  nothing  of  Alexandria  and  this  city.  The 
House  and  galleries  were  jammed  and  crammed  before  five  o'clock.  When 
I  came  over,  at  half-past  six,  I  found  I  could  not  get  in  at  the  door  below, 
much  less  get  up  the  steps  leading  to  the  House.  The  people  were  wedged 
in  as  tight  as  they  could  be  squeezed,  from  outside  the  door  all  the  way  up 
the  steps,  and  the  current  could  neither  move  up  nor  down.  There  were 
several  thousands  still  outside.  I  availed  myself  of  my  knowledge  of  the 
meanderings  of  an  intricate,  narrow  passage  under  the  rotunda,  and  round 
by  the  Supreme  Court  room,  into  the  alley  from  the  Clerk's  room,  into  the 
House  at  the  side-door  by  the  House  post-office ;  and  through  this  Mr. 
Cobb  and  I,  with  Robinson,  of  Indiana,  wound  our  way,  finding  it  unob- 
structed, until  we  got  to  the  door,  where  the  crowd  was  as  tight  as  human 
bodies  could  be  jammed ;  but  we  drove  through  the  solid  mass  and  got  in, 
and  passed  on  the  space  by  the  fire  to  the  left  of  the  Speaker's  chair, 
where,  by  looking  over  the  screen,  we  could  see  the  chair.  When  we  got 
to  this  place  what  a  sight  was  before  our  eyes !  The  great  new  chande- 
lier, lighted  up  with  gas,  was  brilliant  and  splendid  indeed ;  and  then  what 
a  sea  of  heads  and  faces !  Every  nook  and  corner  on  the  floor  below,  and 
the  galleries  above,  the  aisles,  the  area,  the  steps  on  the  Speaker's  rostrum, 
were  running  over.  The  crowd  was  pushed  over  the  railing,  and  men  were 
standing  on  the  outside  cornice  all  around ;  and  they  were  even  hanging 
on  the  old  clock  and  the  figure  of  Time.  Such  a  sight  you  never  saw. 
None  in  the  hall  could  turn ;  women  fainted,  and  had  to  be  carried  out 
over  the  solid  mass.  At  about  seven  Clay  came,  but  could  hardly  be  got 
in.  The  crowd,  however,  after  a  while  was  opened,  while  the  dome  re- 
sounded with  uninterrupted  hurrahs.  *  *  *  After  a  while  order  was  re- 
stored. *  *  *  Dayton,  of  New  Jersey,  offered  a  resolution,  and  began  speak- 
ing ;  but  one  fellow  crying  '  Clay !  Clay  !'  the  cry  became  general,  and  soon 
also  became  general  with  '  Put  him  down  !'  '  Put  him  out !'  '  Pitch  him  out 
of  the  window!'  But  Dayton  held  out  and  kept  speaking,  until  he  was 
literally  drowned  with  cries  of  '  Down !  down  !'  '  Hush  !'  '  Clay  !  Clay  !'  etc., 
and  then  the  old  hero  rose.  Three  more  cheers  for  Henry  Clay  were  sug- 
gested— three  more  !  three  more  !  three  more  !  At  length  quiet  reigned. 
Clay  began  speaking,  and  all  were  silent.  Of  his  speech  I  say  nothing. 
He  was  easy,  fluent,  bold,  commanding ;  but,  in  my  opinion,  not  eloquent. 
At  about  nine  an  adjournment  was  announced.  *  *  *  I  understand  that 
whole  acres  of  people  had  to  go  away  without  getting  in  at  all.  Shepperd, 
of  North  Carolina,  whom  you  know  as  being  more  Whiggish  than  Clayish, 
rather  snappishly  remarked,  when  we  got  to  our  quarters,  that  Clay  could 


452  Twelve  Americans. 

get  more  men  to  run  after  him  to  hear  him  speak,  and  fewer  to  vote  for 
him,  than  any  man  in  America." 

Once  more  at  home,  he  writes  of  his  faithful  dog : 

"  Poor  '  Pup '  is  much  worse  than  he  was  yesterday.  He  cannot  walk 
or  crawl  to-day.  I  think  he  has  lockjaw.  He  looks  anxiously  at  all  who 
go  to  see  him,  and  wags  his  tail  when  called.  I  have  had  him  put  on  the 
back  piazza,  where  he  can  get  water  without  trouble.  I  am  very  fearful 
that  the  poor  fellow  who  met  me  so  cordially  on  my  return,  when  I  was  so 
filled  with  sadness,  will  himself  be  numbered  with  the  dead  before  another 
similar  opportunity  occurs.  I  had  become  very  much  attached  to  the  dog, 
for  the  reason,  I  suppose,  that  he  was  so  much  attached  to  me.  When  I 
went  away  he  was  always  the  first  to  meet  me  on  my  return,  and  was  al- 
ways so  glad  to  see  me.  If  he  dies  I  shall  miss  him,  and  shall  again  feel 
the  truth  of  the  maxim,  that  all  things  here  below  are  vain  and  illu- 
sory." 

Another  subject,  much  in  his  mind,  he  refers  to  as  follows : 

"Whenever  I  get  time  I  will  give  you  a  long  letter  upon  the  Ancients, 
as  I  have  been  closely  engaged  reading  up  on  that  subject  lately.  Rather, 
I  should  say,  I  have  been  for  some  time  closely  studying  ancient  history, 
which  I  never  did  before.  And  though,  as  you  know,  I  have  always  had  a 
high  opinion  of  the  men  of  olden  times,  you  may  be  surprised  when  I  tell 
you  that  my  late  reading  has  greatly  increased  my  admiration.  *  *  * 

"  You  may  depend  upon  it,  any  people  who  could  do  all  these  things : 
build  monuments  to  survive  the  ravages  of  ages,  firm  almost  as  the  ever- 
lasting mountains ;  who  excavated  for  themselves  a  final  resting-place  in 
the  solid  rock,  covered  with  paintings  relating  their  history,  which  time 
and  the  elements  can  never  obliterate ;  who  had  even  the  art  of  embalm- 
ing their  dead,  and  almost  of  arresting  Nature's  first  law  of  dissolution, 
giving  to  their  mortal  clay  a  kind  of  immortality — have  no  equals  on  the 
earth  at  this  time." 

Of  Congress  and  its  methods  Mr.  Stephens  has  this  to  say : 

"  I  am  getting  tired  of  this  place,  and  I  am  beginning  to  think  that  Con- 
gress is  the  last  place  that  a  man  of  honor  and  honorable  ambition  should 
aspire  to.  There  is  a  recklessness  of  purpose  here  perfectly  disgusting 
and  almost  alarming.  What  will  become  of  our  country  and  institutions 
I  do  not  know.  The  signs  of  the  times  to  me  are  ominous  of  evil.  I  have 
ceased  to  take  much  interest  in  what  is  done  in  the  House.  All  is  done 
by  party  will  and  for  party  effect." 

Again  in  Washington,  some  years  later,  but  still  thinking  of 
the  old  home,  he  writes  : 


A  Man  of  the  South.  453 

"Tell  Eliza  [a  faithful  colored  servant]  to  go  to  Sloman's  and  get  her 
a  wedding-dress,  including  a  pair  of  shoes,  and  to  have  a  decent  wedding 
of  it.  Let  them  cook  a  supper,  and  have  such  of  their  friends  as  they  wish. 
Tell  them  to  get  some  '  parson  man '  and  be  married  like  Christian  folks. 
Let  the  wedding  come  off  some  time  when  you  are  at  home,  so  that  you 
may  keep  order  among  them.  Buy  a  pig,  and  let  them  have  a  good  sup- 
per.    Let  Eliza  bake  some  pound-cake,  and  set  a  good  wedding-table." 

On  the  31st  of  March,  1850,  he  has  this  to  say  of  the  death 
of  a  great  man  : 

"  The  Angel  of  Death  has  just  passed  by,  and  his  shadow  is  seen'  linger- 
ing upon  the  startled  countenances  of  all.  A  great  man  has  just  fallen — 
Calhoun !  His  race  is  ended.  His  restless  and  fiery  spirit  sleeps  in  that 
deep  and  long  repose  which  awaits  all  the  living.  He  died  this  morning, 
about  seven  o'clock.  Peace  to  his  ashes !  His  name  will  long  be  remem- 
bered in  the  history  of  this  country.  He  has  closed  his  career  at  a  most 
eventful  period  of  that  history,  and  perhaps  it  is  most  fortunate  for  his 
fame  that  he  died  just  at  this  time." 

To-day  how  well  might  the  same  lines  be  written  in  regard 
to  Alexander  H.  Stephens ! 

As  has  been  said,  Mr.  Stephens  continued  his  remarkable 
correspondence  with  his  more  than  brother — thousands  of  let- 
ters are  known  to  have  passed  between  them — until  the  latter 
was  taken  to  the  grave.  How  deep  and  bitter  was  the  sorrow 
of  the  survivor  at  the  loss  of  his  confidant  may  in  some  slight 
degree  be  inferred  from  the  following,  written  in  1872,  to  his 
good  friend,  Mr.  Richard  Malcolm  Johnston: 

"  I  am  now  passing  through  one  of  the  bitterest  agonies  of  my  life. 
Before  this  reaches  you,  you  will  have  heard  of  the  death  of  my  dearest 
of  brothers.  He  died  at  his  home  on  the  evening  of  Sunday  last.  *  *  *  Oh 
that  I  had  you  to  comfort  me ! — some  one  to  whom  I  could  talk,  and  in 
this  way  find  relief  from  an  overpressed  heart  which  converse  with  friends 
alone  can  afford.  The  light  of  my  life  is  extinguished.  How  long  I  can 
survive  it  God  in  his  infinite  mercy  alone  knows.  The  bitterest  pang  I 
have  is,  that  all  the  world  to  me  is  now  desolate.  I  have  no  one  to  whom 
I  can  talk  and  unbosom  my  woes.  Heretofore,  when  heavy  afflictions  of 
any  sort  came  upon  me  for  thirty  years  or  more  he  was  my  prop  and 
stay.  Toward  him  my  thoughts  constantly  turned  for  relief  and  comfort. 
Now  that  prop  and  stay  is  gone.  I  am  indeed  most  miserable.  All 
around  me  is  dark,  gloomy,  cheerless,  hopeless.      I  am  not  able  even  to 


454  Twelve  Americans. 

go  and  take  a  last  look  at  that  noble  form  who  has  so  long  been  my  life's 
support.  Oh,  how  little  did  I  think  when  he  bade  me  adieu  with  you  two 
weeks  ago  last  Saturday  that  it  would  be  the  last  time  I  should  see  him ! 
But  so  it  was.  To  the  decrees  of  the  Most  High  we  must  all  submit  with 
whatever  resignation  he  shall  afford  us  grace  through  faith  in  his  mercy 
to  command." 

To  his  dying  day  Mr.  Stephens  continued  to  mourn  for  Lin- 
ton. When  the  latter  was  a  child  he  cared  for  him  with  the 
tenderness  of  a  woman.  In  his  boyhood  he  was  more  than  a 
father  to  him.  He  worked  for  him,  educated  him,  watched  over 
him.  All  through  life  he  was  his  protector,  his  best,  his  truest 
friend ;  for  in  all  truth  the  strong,  warm,  tender,  gentle  love  of 
Alexander  H.  Stephens  for  his  brother  was  above  and  beyond 
the  ken  of  ordinary  people,  men  or  women — past  finding  out. 

V. 

ALMOST   A   DEATH-WOUND. 

During  Mr.  Stephens's  Congressional  service,  and  pending 
the  campaign  of  1S48,  he  Feturned  from  "Washington  to 
Georgia.  He  was  fresh  from  the  great  debates  on  the  acqui- 
sition of  California  and  New  Mexico  as  United  States  Terri- 
tories ;  and  for  having  taken,  against  the  wishes  of  many  of 
his  party  friends,  a  most  prominent  part  in  opposition  to  such 
acquisition,  he  was  met  with  much  adverse  criticism.  Judge 
Cone,  who  was  at  the  time  one  of  the  leading  politicians  of 
Georgia,  was  particularly  severe  in  his  comments  upon  Mr. 
Stephens's  action,  and  was  reported  as  having  publicly  de- 
nounced him  as  a  traitor  to  his  country. 

Hardly  had  Mr.  Stephens  reached  his  home  when  these  and 
similar  reports  were  conveyed  to  him.  At  first  he  did  not 
credit  them  ;  but  as  one  kind  friend  after  another  informed 
him  that  Cone  had  called  him  traitor,  and  advised,  in  the  true 
Southern  spirit,  that  he  owed  it  to  himself  to  demand  what 
is  called  "  satisfaction,"  the  fires  of  pugnacity  in  his  nature, 


A  Man  of  the  South.  45  5 

which  were  always  smouldering,  blazed  up,  and  he  declared  that 
if  Judge  Cone  would  admit  having  called  him  a  traitor  to  his 
country  he  would  "  slap  his  face." 

Not  long  after  this  he  met  the  Judge  at  a  numerously  at- 
tended Whig  gathering,  and,  approaching  him,  quietly  said, 

"Judge  Cone,  I  have  been  told  that  you,  for  reasons  of  your 
own,  have  denounced  me  as  a  traitor,  and  I  take  this  opportu- 
nity of  asking  you  if  such  reports  are  true." 

"  No,  sir,"  was  Cone's  reply,  "  they  are  not  true." 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  you  say  so,"  said  Mr.  Stephens, 
cordially,  and  in  the  same  friendly  tone  continued  :  "  Of  course, 
I  do  not  desire  to  be  in  any  way  offensive  to  you,  Judge  Cone, 
but,  in  order  that  we  may  have  no  farther  misunderstanding 
through  the  misrepresentation  of  others,  I  think  it  right  to  tell 
you  that  I  bave  said  I  would  slap  your  face  if  you  admitted 
having  used  the  language  attributed  to  you." 

Upon  tbis  the  Judge  again  disowned  baving  spoken  dis- 
respectfully of  Mr,  Stephens,  and  so  for  the  time  the  affair 
ended.  It  continued  to  be  the  subject  of  much  discussion  all 
over  the  State,  however,  and  the  general  verdict  was  that  Judge 
Cone — a  very  powerful  man,  by-the-way — had  shown  the  white 
feather  to  "  little  Aleck  Stephens." 

In  such  a  community  no  public  man  resting  under  such  a 
charge  could  hope  either  for  political  preferment  or  popular 
respect.  Cone,  of  course,  knew  this,  and,  very  much  heated 
and  annoyed  by  the  comments  which  were  being  made  upon 
him,  wrote  to  Mr.  Stephens  demanding  an  immediate  and  pub- 
lic retraction  of  his  threat.  In  reply  Mr.  Stephens  wrote  that 
the  threat  of  slapping  the  Judge's  face  had  been  made  contin- 
gent upon  the  truth  of  reports  regarding  him  which  he  (Mr. 
Cone)  had  pronounced  to  be  untrue,  and  that,  such  being  the 
case,  there  could  be  no  cause  for  offence  or  angry  feeling  on 
either  side.  Unfortunately,  this  letter  was  not  received  by 
Judge  Cone.     Three  or  four  days  after  it  was  written,  how- 


45  6  Twelve  Americans. 

ever,  he  met  Mr.  Stephens  on  the  piazza  of  a  hotel  in  Atlanta, 
and,  disregarding  that  gentleman's  friendly  greeting,  said,  in  a 
very  offensive  tone, 

"  Mr.  Stephens,  I  demand  that  you  make  an  immediate  re- 
traction of  your  threats  regarding  me." 

Sick  and  weak  though  he  was,  Alexander  H.  Stephens  could 
allow  no  one  to  speak  to  him  in  the  fashion  described.  Judge 
Cone  was  a  very  giant  in  size  and  muscular  development ;  yet 
the  frail  man  whom  he  addressed,  with  aggravating  politeness, 
and  without  hesitating  a  moment,  replied, 

"  Pardon  me,  sir.  I  have  already  written  to  you  fully  on 
that  subject ;  I  must  decline  to  discuss  it  farther." 

"Am  I  to  take  this  as  your  answer?"  asked  Cone,  excitedly. 

"It  is  the  only  answer  I  have  to  give  you,"  was  the  calm 
reply. 

"  Then  I  denounce  you  as  a  miserable  little  traitor !"  cried 
Cone,  mad  with  excitement. 

The  last  word  had  hardly  left  his  lips  when  a  light  cane, 
wielded  by  the  quick  hand  of  the  man  he  had  insulted,  left  its 
red  scar  across  his  cheek. 

Wild  with  pain  and  passion,  without  uttering  a  word,  he 
drew  a  keen-pointed  dirk-knife  and  made  a  furious  thrust  at 
his  little  adversary's  heart.  Instantly  as  he  did  so,  however, 
Stephens,  seizing  tightly  a  stout  umbrella  which  he  had  held 
loosely  in  his  left  hand,  interposed  it  as  a  defence,  and  was 
able,  for  a  moment,  to  hold  Cone  at  arm's-length.  The  knife 
fell  short  of  its  mark.  Once  more  it  was  thrust  at  Stephens, 
cutting  a  deep  gash  in  his  arm,  but  reaching  no  vital  part. 
Eighteen  times  it  cut  deep  into  his  breast,  arms,  and  body,  but 
still  he  did  not  fall.  Then  he  could  hold  out  no  longer.  No 
courage,  no  spirit,  however  firm  and  unyielding,  could  long 
withstand  such  an  attack.  Cone  was  determined  to  finish  his 
work.  He  threw  all  his  great  weight  against  the  umbrella 
which  held  him  awav  from  the  man  he  had  determined  to  kill. 


A  Man  of  the  South.  457 

It  broke.  Stephens,  half-fainting,  fell  upon  his  back.  The 
giant  Cone  was  at  his  throat  in  a  moment;  his  head,  by  a  grip 
of  iron,  was  held  against  the  cruel  floor ;  the  keen  and  blood- 
dripping  knife  was  aloft  before  him,  ready  for  the  last  fatal 
thrust ;  but  still  the  poor  pale  face  of  the  little  hero  was  set 
and  defiant — his  black  eyes  still  flashed  undauntedly. 

"  Retract,  or  I'll  cut  your  cursed  throat !"  hissed  Cone. 

"  Cut !  I'll  never  retract !"  gasped  the  almost  lifeless  Ste- 
phens. 

Like  a  flash  the  knife  came  down.  With  an  almost  super- 
human effort  the  prostrate  man  caught  it  in  his  right  hand ! 
Clean  through  the  muscles,  tendons,  and  bones  of  the  hand  it 
cut,  then  stuck  fast  and  reached  no  vital  part.  With  desperate 
strength  Cone  tried  to  wrench  it  free.  With  a  grasp  almost 
of  death  the  horribly-mangled  and  mutilated  hand  still  held  it 
fast.  In  the  struggle  Stephens  was  once  more  dragged  to  his 
feet;  the  blood  was  rushing  in  streams  from  his  many  wounds; 
his  hold  upon  the  knife  which  sought  his  brave  heart  began 
to  relax ;  he  was  dying.  But,  even  when  he  believed  the  next 
moment  would  be  his  last,  strong  men  rushed  to  his  aid.  The 
madman  Cone  was  secured  and  held. 

Then  quickly  the  wounds  which  Mr.  Stephens  had  received 
were  examined.  It  was  found  that  one  of  them  had  penetra- 
ted to  within  the  sixteenth  of  an  inch  of  his  heart.  An  inter- 
costal artery  had  been  cut.  The  doctors  declared  that  he  would 
surely  die.  Happily  their  predictions  were  not  verified.  His 
life  was  saved  by  the  unremitting  care  of  a  surgeon,  his  de- 
voted friend,  who,  as  good  fortune  would  have  it,  happened  to 
be  in  Atlanta  at  the  time. 

When  he  recovered,  with  a  magnanimity  which  few  men 
are  capable  even  of  comprehending,  he  refused  to  prosecute 
Cone ;  and  that  person,  instead  of  getting  his  deserts  in  the 
dark  cell  of  a  State  prison,  was  fined  $1000,  and,  with  his 
"  honor  vindicated,"  allowed  to  go  free.     To  the  last  Mr.  Ste- 

20 


458  Twelve  Americans. 

phens  spoke  of  him  in  terms  of  consideration  and  forgiveness. 
One  day,  in  Washington,  referring  to  the  terrible  struggle  I 
have  attempted  to  describe,  and  showing  me  the  hole  in  his 
mangled  hand,  he  said,  with  a  quiet  and  far-away  look  in  his 
deep  dark  eyes, 

"  Poor  Cone  !     I'm  sure  he'd  be  sorry  if  he  knew  what 
trouble  I  have  to  write  with  these  stiff  fingers  of  mine." 

VI. 
AN  UNWILLING  REBEL.— IN  THE  GREAT  STRUGGLE. 

Alexander  H.  Stephens  was  one  of  the  first  public  men  in 
the  country  who  had  the  foresight  to  fear  that  the  agitation  of 
the  slavery  question  would  ultimately  result  in  a  fratricidal  strug- 
gle. Thus  fearing,  he  never  lost  an  opportunity  of  counselling 
moderation  and  forbearance.  This,  there  can  be  no  doubt,  he 
did  disinterestedly,  and  without  for  a  moment  believing  that  the 
result  of  such  a  struggle  would  be  the  downfall  of  the  slave- 
holding  power.  He,  like  most  political  leaders,  both  North 
and  South,  was  assured,  even  on  the  eve  of  the  war,  that 
"  the  divine  institution "  of  slavery  could  not  be  overthrown. 
In  an  open  letter  to  a  number  of  his  constituents,  written  in 
May,  1860,  he  says  upon  this  subject:  "The  times,  as  you 
intimate,  do  indeed  portend  evil,  but  I  have  no  fears  for  the 
institution  of  slavery,  either  in  the  Union  or  out  of  it,  if  our 
people  are  all  true  to  themselves  —  true,  stable,  and  loyal  to 
fixed  principles  and  a  settled  policy.  If  they  are  not  thus  true, 
I  have  little  hope  of  anything  good,  whether  the  present  Union 
last  or  a  new  one  be  founded.  There  is,  in  my  judgment,  noth- 
ing to  fear  from  '  the  irrepressible  conflict '  of  which  we  hear 
so  much.  Slavery  rests  upon  great  truths,  which  can  never 
be  successfully  assailed  by  reason  or  argument.  It  has  grown 
stronger  in  the  minds  of  men  the  more  it  has  been  discussed, 
and  it  will  still  grow  stronger  as  the  discussion  proceeds  and 


A  Man  of  the  South.  459 

time  rolls  on.  Truth  is  omnipotent,  and  must  prevail !  We 
have  only  to  maintain  the  truth  with  firmness  and  wield  it 
aright.  Our  system  rests  upon  an  impregnable  basis  that  can 
and  will  defy  all  assaults  from  without.  My  greatest  appre- 
hension is  from  causes  within.  There  lies  the  greatest  danger. 
We  have  grown  luxurious  in  the  exuberance  of  our  well-being 
and  unparalleled  prosperity.  There  is  a  tendency  everywhere, 
not  only  at  the  North  but  at  the  South,  to  strife,  dissension, 
disorder,  and  anarchy.  It  is  against  this  tendency  that  the 
sober-minded,  reflecting  men  everywhere  should  now  be  called 
upon  to  guard." 

Prior  to  the  writing  of  this  letter,  and  just  after  the  delivery 
of  his  great  Milledgeville  speech,  in  which  he  expressed  similar 
views,  Mr.  Stephens  received  from  the  then  President-elect 
Lincoln  a  note  asking  for  a  revised  copy  of  that  speech.  To 
this  Mr.  Stephens  replied  in  a  letter  which  concludes  with 
these  words :  "  The  country  is  certainly  in  great  peril,  and  no 
man  ever  had  heavier  or  greater  responsibilities  than  you  have 
in  the  present  momentous  crisis."  Under  date  of  December 
22,  1860,  Lincoln  replied  in  the  following  letter,  which,  it  is 
to  be  noted,  was  held  secret  by  Mr.  Stephens  until  after  the 
death  of  the  President : 

"  [For  your  own  eye,  only.] 

"  My  dear  Sir, — Your  obliging  answer  to  my  short  note  is  just  re- 
ceived, and  for  which  please  accept  my  thanks.  I  fully  appreciate  the 
present  peril  the  country  is  in,  and  the  weight  of  responsibility  on  me. 
Do  the  people  of  the  South  really  entertain  fears  that  a  Republican  Ad- 
ministration would  directly  or  indirectly  interfere  with  the  slaves,  or  with 
them  about  the  slaves  ?  If  they  do,  I  wish  to  assure  you,  as  once  a  friend, 
and  still,  I  hope,  not  an  enemy,  that  there  is  no  cause  for  such  fears.  The 
South  would  be  in  no  more  danger  in  this  respect  than  it  was  in  the  days 
of  Washington.  I  suppose,  however,  that  does  not  meet  the  case.  You 
think  slavery  is  right,  and  ought  to  be  extended,  while  we  think  it  is  wrong, 
and  ought  to  be  abolished.  That,  I  suppose,  is  the  rub.  It  certainly  is 
the  only  substantial  difference  between  us. 

"  Yours,  very  truly,  A.  Lincoln. 

"To  the  Hon.  Alexander  II.  Stephens." 


460  Twelve  Americans. 

In  his  reply  to  this  characteristic  communication — a  commu- 
nication in  which  it  is  particularly  worthy  of  note  that  the 
President-elect  explicitly  disclaims  all  intention  of  interfering 
with  the  system  of  slavery  as  it  then  existed — Mr.  Stephens 
still  farther  gave  voice  to  what  must  be  regarded  as  having 
been  the  very  general  feeling  then  prevailing  in  the  South. 
He  said : 

"In  my  judgment  the  people  of  the  South  do  not  entertain  any  fears 
that  a  Republican  Administration,  or  at  least  that  the  one  about  to  be  in- 
augurated, would  attempt  to  interfere  directly  and  immediately  with  sla- 
very in  the  States.  Their  apprehension  and  disquietude  do  not  spring  from 
that  source.  They  do  not  arise  from  the  fact  of  the  known  antislavery 
opinions  of  the  President-elect.  Washington,  Jefferson,  and  other  Presi- 
dents are  generally  admitted  to  have  been  antislavery  in  sentiment,  but  in 
those  days  antislavery  did  not  enter  as  an  element  into  party  organizations. 
*  *  *  We  at  the  South  do  think  African  slavery,  as  it  exists  with  us,  both 
morally  and  politically  right.  This  opinion  is  founded  upon  the  inferiority 
of  the  black  race.  You,  however,  and  perhaps  a  majority  of  the  North, 
think  it  wrong." 

While  Mr.  Stephens  held  these  views  in  regard  to  the  insti- 
tution of  human  slavery,  however,  and  while  he  fully  sided,  as  it 
must  be  admitted,  with  the  most  radical  element  in  the  slave- 
holding  power,  he  was  still  wise  enough  to  combat  with  all  the 
power  of  which  he  was  capable  many  of  the  ridiculous  notions 
in  regard  to  what  was  called  Northern  despotism  and  Northern 
tyranny,  which  just  before  the  war  were  entertained  and  pub- 
licly proclaimed  by  many  Southern  leaders.  In  a  letter  written 
on  the  first  day  of  1861  he,  with  great  force,  and  a  remarkably 
accurate  knowledge  of  the  people  whom  he  criticised,  express- 
ed his  views  on  this  subject  as  follows : 

"  There  are  general  and  vague  charges  about  consolidation,  despotism, 
etc.,  and  the  South  having,  under  the  operation  of  the  General  Govern- 
ment, been  reduced  to  a  minority  incapable  of  protecting  itself,  etc.  This 
complaint  I  do  not  think  well-founded.  It  arises  more  from  a  spirit  of 
peevishness  or  restless  fretfulness  than  from  calm  and  deliberate  judg- 
ment. The  truth  is,  the  South,  almost  en  masse,  has  voted  for  every  meas- 
ure of  general  legislation  that  has  passed  both  Houses  and  become  law  for 


A  Man  of  the  South.  461 

the  last  ten  years.  Indeed,  with  but  few  exceptions,  the  South  has  con- 
trolled the  Government  in  its  every  important  action  from  the  beginning. 
The  protective  policy  was  once  for  a  time  carried  against  the  South,  but 
that  was  subsequently  completely  changed.  Our  policy  ultimately  pre- 
vailed. The  South  put  in  power,  or  joined  the  united  country  in  putting 
in  power  and  sustaining,  the  Administrations  of  Washington  for  eight  years. 
She  put  in  and  sustained  Jefferson  for  eight  years  ;  Madison,  eight  years  ; 
Jackson,  eight  years ;  Van  Buren,  four  years ;  Tyler,  four  years ;  Polk, 
four  years ;  Pierce,  four  years ;  and  Buchanan,  four  years.  That  is  to 
say,  the  Southern  people  have  aided  in  making  and  sustaining  the  Admin- 
istration for  sixty  years  out  of  the  seventy-two  years  of  the  Government's 
existence.  Does  this  look  like  we  were  or  are  in  an  abject  minority,  at 
the  mercy  of  a  despotic  Northern  majority,  rapacious  to  rob  and  plunder 
us  ?  It  is  true  we  are  in  a  minority,  and  have  been  a  long  time.  It  is 
true,  also,  that  a  party  at  the  North  advocate  principles  which  would  lead 
to  a  despotism.  *  *  *  I  have  no  doubt  of  that.  But  by  the  prudent  and 
wise  counsels  of  Southern  statesmen  this  party  has  been  kept  in  a  minor- 
ity in  the  past,  and,  by  the  same  prudent  and  wise  statesmanship  on  our 
part,  I  can  but  hope  and  think  it  can  be  so  for  many  long  years  to  come. 
Sound  constitutional  men  enough  at  the  North  have  been  found  to  unite 
with  the  South  to  keep  that  dangerous  and  mischievous  faction  in  a  minor- 
ity. And,  although  Lincoln  has  been  elected,  it  ought  to  be  recollected 
that  he  has  succeeded  by  a  minority  vote,  and  even  this  was  the  result  of 
the  dissensions  in  the  ranks  of  the  conservative  or  constitutional  men, 
North  and  South — a  most  unfortunate  and  lamentable  event,  and  the  more 
so  from  the  fact  that  it  was  designedly  effected  by  men  who  wished  to  use 
it  for  ulterior  ends  and  objects." 

By  these  and  many  similar  private  and  public  utterances 
Alexander  11.  Stephens  tried  to  allay  the  excitement  at  the 
South,  and  to  bring  the  people  of  that  section  away  from  the 
belief  that  it  was  desirable  for  them  to  secede  from  the  Union. 
lie  sanctioned  the  theory  of  secession,  but  during  all  the  dark 
days  of  1860  urged  with  all  his  power  that  the  Republic  be 
preserved.  Upon  this  point  there  can  be  no  doubt.  Regard- 
ing the  secession  movement  which  was  contemplated  in  Geor- 
gia in  the  winter  of  1861,  he  wrote  at  that  time:  "I  believe 
the  State  will  go  for  secession,  but  I  have  a  repugnance  to  the 
idea.  I  have  no  wish  to  be  in  a  body  of  men  that  will  give 
that  vote.  My  judgment  does  not  approve  it ;  but "  (and  here 
occurs  the  one  fatally  weak  point  in  Mr.  Stephens's  position) 


462  Twelve  Americans. 

"  when  the  State  acts  I  shall  abide  by  her  decision  with  the 
fidelity  of  one  who  imagines  that  he  feels  the  dictates  of  pa- 
triotism as  sensibly  and  as  strongly  as  any  one  who  ever 
breathed  the  breath  of  life."  He  did  abide  by  the  decision  of 
his  State,  though  that  decision  was  against  his  best  judgment. 
Once  in  "  the  Confederacy  "  it  was  not  possible  for  him  to 
remain  inactive  or  obscure.  His  own  ambition  and  restlessness 
of  spirit,  as  well  as  the  desire  of  the  South,  drove  him  to  the 
front,  until  he  became  in  a  sense  a  candidate  for  the  Presidency 
of  the  rebellious  States,  and  ultimately  the  Vice-President  un- 
der Jefferson  Davis.  How  he  secured  that  office,  and  how  Mr. 
Davis  was  nominated  for  the  Presidency,  is  best  told  in  his 
own  words,  as  follows : 

"  What  I  know  about  Mr.  Davis's  nomination  for  President  can  be  told 
in  few  words.  Robert  Toombs  and  I,  as  we  got  upon  the  cars  at  Craw- 
fordville,  on  our  way  to  Montgomery,  met  Mr.  Chestnut.  The  latter  said 
that  the  South  Carolina  delegation  had  talked  the  matter  over,  and  looked 
to  Georgia  for  the  President.  I  remarked  that  either  Mr.  Toombs,  Mr. 
Cobb,  Governor  Jenkins,  or  Governor  Johnson  would  suit  very  well.  He 
answered  that  they  were  not  looking  to  any  of  the  others,  but  to  Mr. 
Toombs  and  myself.  I  told  them,  very  frankly,  that  I  did  not  wish  the 
office  ;  that,  as  I  had  not  been  in  the  movement,  I  did  not  think  it  policy 
to  put  me  in  for  it.  After  getting  to  Montgomery,  Mr.  Keitt  told  me  that 
I  was  the  preference  of  the  South  Carolina  delegation,  and  asked  if  I 
would  serve  if  elected.  I  told  him  that  I  would  not  say  in  advance  wheth- 
er I  would  or  would  not  accept.  Even  if  unanimously  chosen,  I  would 
first  consider  whether  or  not  I  could  organize  a  Cabinet  with  such  concert 
of  ideas  and  ability  as  to  justify  hopes  of  success  on  such  line  of  policy 
as  I  should  pursue. 

"  The  night  after  the  adoption  of  the  permanent  Constitution  the  motion 
was  made  to  go  into  the  election  of  chief  officers.  It  was  then  suggested 
that  the  election  should  take  place  the  next  day,  at  12  m.,  and  in  the 
mean  time  the  delegations  should  consult  separately.  The  Georgia  dele- 
gation met  at  ten  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  day  of  the  election.  I 
proposed  that  we  put  in  the  name  of  Mr.  Toombs  for  the  Presidency,  and 
asked  him  if  he  would  have  it.  He  said  he  would  accept  it  if  it  was  cor- 
dially offered  him.  Mr.  T.  Cobb  and  F.  T.  Bartow  said  that  the  delegations 
of  Florida,  Alabama,  South  Carolina,  and  Louisiana  had  conferred,  and 
agreed  to  support  Mr.  Davis.  Mr.  Toombs  seemed  very  incredulous  of 
this,  and  his  manner  indicated  some  surprise.     I  did  not  understand  this 


A  Man  of  the  South.  463 

then,  but  did  afterward.  The  statement  was  reiterated ;  and  upon  it  the 
delegation  forbore  to  nominate  Mr.  Toombs,  but  determined  to  appoint  a 
committee  to  ascertain  if  the  report  was  true.  Mr.  Kenan  then  proposed 
that  if  it  should  be  correct  I  should  be  put  forward  for  Vice-President. 
Judge  Nisbet  said,  '  I  second  that  heartily !'  Mr.  Toombs  said,  '  I  do,  too. 
What  do  you  say,  Aleck  ?'  I  replied  that  I  had  not  been  in  the  movement, 
and  doubted  the  policy  of  my  assuming  any  office.  But  still  there  might 
be  reasons  why  I  should — as  for  the  sake  of  harmony ;  that  if  I  were  to 
have  any,  I  decidedly  preferred  the  Vice-Presidency  to  any  office  in  the 
Government,  but  would  not  accept  it  unless  it  should  be  tendered  me  unan- 
imously by  the  States  and  by  every  delegate.  Mr.  Crawford  was  then  ap- 
pointed a  committee  of  one  to  ascertain  and  report  to  us,  first,  whether  the 
report  as  to  the  action  of  those  States  was  true ;  and,  second,  if  my  nomi- 
nation would  be  acceptable  to  the  entire  body.  Very  soon  he  returned  and 
announced  that  both  the  conditions  were  fulfilled.  I  afterward  learned 
that  the  action  of  the  States  alluded  to  was  based  upon  intelligence  re- 
ceived by  them  the  night  before,  that  Mr.  Cobb  would  be  presented  by  the 
Georgia  delegation,  and  that  Mr.  Davis  was  not  their  choice.  Toombs 
was  the  choice  of  the  Florida,  the  Louisiana,  and  the  South  Carolina  dele- 
gations." 


VII. 

THE   LAST   DEBT. 

Of  Mr.  Stephens's  services  to  the  Southern  Confederacy  it 
is  not  within  the  purpose  of  this  sketch  to  speak,  and  his  pub- 
lic life  since  the  war  until  his  death  is  so  familiar  to  the  Amer- 
ican people,  that  to  it  only  passing  reference  need  be  made. 
In  May,  1865,  when  the  last  hope  of  the  rebels  was  at  an  end, 
he  was  arrested  by  Federal  troops  at  his  home  in  Georgia,  and 
taken  to  Fort  Warren,  in  Boston  Harbor.  After  his  release 
he  wrote  a  history  of  the  war,  and  for  a  time  edited  a  news- 
paper in  Atlanta.  He  opposed  "the  new  departure"  in  the 
South  which  favored  the  election  of  Horace  Greeley  to  the 
Presidency,  and  from  the  first  predicted  Grant's  triumph.  His 
action  in  this  direction  was  bitterly  denounced  by  Democrats, 
North  and  South ;  but  the  result  proving  the  wisdom  of  his 
views,  he  rapidly  regained  the  confidence  of  the  people  of  his 
State,  and  in  1873  was  elected  from  "the  old  Eighth  District," 


464  Twelve  Americans. 

which  he  had  so  faithfully  represented  before  the  war,  to  fill 
an  unexpired  terra  in  Congress.  He  was  elected  and  re-elected 
until  1882,  when  he  was  chosen  Governor  of  his  State  by  a 
very  large  majority. 

It  was  not  ordained  that  he  should  live  through  his  term. 
In  Atlanta,  the  capital  of  his  native  and  beloved  Georgia,  at 
half-past  three  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  Sunday,  March  4, 
1883,  his  wonderful  brain,  his  wonderful  will  power,  could  no 
longer  keep  life  in  his  wrecked  and  puny  body.  He  died, 
according  to  his  faithful  physicians,  Drs.  Miller  and  Steiner, 
from  a  collapse  of  the  mind  brought  about  by  constant,  un- 
remitting intellectual  activity.     His  last  words  were, 

"  Oh,  doctor,  you  hurt  me !" 

It  Avas  pain — pain  to  the  last.  During  a  long  lifetime  phys- 
ical suffering  and  weakness  had  blighted  his  existence,  and  in 
the  end,  at  the  last  terrible  moment  when  the  shadow  of  the 
Angel  of  Death  had  fallen  across  his  bed,  his  old  enemy  in- 
vaded even  that  presence  and  forced  from  his  gray,  trem- 
bling lips  the  last  words  he  uttered  upon  earth. 

His  funeral  in  Atlanta  was  attended  by  upward  of  fifty 
thousand  weeping  men  and  women.  All  Georgia  mourned  for 
him.  Several  other  States,  and  towns  and  cities  in  all  parts  of 
the  country,  did  honor  to  his  memory  by  resolutions  and  the 
adjournment  of  courts  and  public  councils. 

Two  widely  different  estimates  of  his  life  and  character  may 
be  given  here.  The  first  is  that  of  Robert  Toombs,  his  life- 
long friend  and  associate,  who  lived  after  him,  glorying  in  the 
title  of  "  Unreconstructed  Rebel."  The  second  is  that  of  a 
peculiarly  keen-witted  and  cold-blooded  though  not  unfriendly 
Northern  critic — an  able  New  York  journalist. 

At  the  grave  of  Stephens,  Toombs,  massive  but  tottering 
and  almost  blind,  was  for  a  time  unable  to  control  himself. 
For  several  moments  he  wept  and  sobbed  aloud.  Then,  with 
a  supreme  effort  to  be  calm,  but  still  in  a  choked  and  faltering 


A  Man  of  the  South.  465 

voice,  be  delivered  the  oration  from  which  are  taken  the  fol- 
lowing passages : 

"  I  come  to  mingle  my  tears  with  all  the  men  and  women  and  even 
children  of  Georgia  over  'Aleck'  Stephens,  and  not  to  make  an  eulogy. 
His  acts  are  written  in  letters  of  gold.  From  the  accidents  of  life,  from 
the  contiguity  of  our  places,  natives  of  the  same  county,  from  similarity 
of  tastes  and  pursuits,  more  of  my  life  has  been  spent  in  the  presence  of 
and  close  contact  with  our  illustrious  friend  than  with  any  other  man  that 
is  living  or  dead,  from  my  infancy  to  manhood.  His  whole  life  was  an 
open  book.  He  was  more  the  child  of  his  country  than  any  man  that 
ever  breathed.  With  early  disadvantages  to  a  degree  and  extent  that 
seemed  to  forbid,  absolutely  forbid  by  the  hand  of  God,  the  work  that  was 
before  him,  I  know  that  he  never  counted  on  a  day  of  life  for  more  than 
forty  years.  Yet,  like  the  faithful  soldier,  whenever  the  roll  was  called 
his  answer  was  '  Here.'  He  took  his  mission  from  the  voice  of  God — con- 
science. He  always  determined  from  his  cradle  to  live  for  his  country. 
His  maxim  from  early  life  was,  that  there  was  no  subject  worthy  of  the 
human  intellect  but  the  well  government  of  the  human  race.  There  was 
the  field  to  which  he  was  called — the  well  government  of  the  human  race. 
It  was  the  sheet-anchor  of  liberty  and  union.  God  was  his  ideal — the 
sheet-anchor  of  human  virtue,  of  human  happiness,  and  of  all  that  was 
worth  doing  for  in  this  life.  There  was  for  him  a  wide  field  of  useful- 
ness. His  daily  life  was  a  sermon.  Every  act  at  the  Bar,  every  act  in  the 
court-house,  preached  a  sermon  that  struck  deep  in  the  hearts  of  all  that 
knew  him. 

"  He  was  not  always  successful,  but  he  had  a  will  that  dared  to  do  right, 
to  follow  his  convictions  even  in  spite  of  his  constituents.  Calmly  Avork- 
ing  out  what  was  best  to  do,  the  world  was  not  equal  to  him,  the  world 
was  not  worthy  of  him.  Sometimes  in  political  questions  Mr.  Stephens 
differed  with  the  people  of  Georgia  and  of  the  United  States,  but  he  pur- 
sued the  even  tenor  of  his  way.  bearing  malice  to  none,  good-will  to  all. 
When  the  public  had  not  risen  to  his  elevated  standard,  when  the  citizens 
he  served  through  love,  when  Georgia  even  differed  with  him,  he  grace- 
fully bowed,  like  a  dutiful  son  to  a  father. 

"His  life  was  devoted  to  instructing,  to  feeding,  and  to  clothing  the 
poor,  without  regard  to  country,  to  sect,  or  to  creed.  Even  personal  vice 
never  could  take  from  him  the  charity  of  his  heart.  He  was  too  great  for 
defeat — the  country  could  not  spare  him.  We  differed  in  opinion,  but 
there  never  was  one  pang  of  discord.  I  never  did  differ  from  him  with- 
out doubt.  He  was  not  a  stubborn  man.  Under  the  heat  of  canvass  in- 
justice of  what  you  might  call  the  rankest  kind  left  no  pang  behind.  I 
remember,  after  the  fall  of  the  Confederacy,  when  I  urged  him  to  leave 
the  country,  he  said, '  No,  I  am  old,  weak  in  bodily  infirmities,  but  I  have 
done  my  duty  to  God  and  my  country,  and  I  am  ready  for  anything  that 

20* 


466  Twelve  Americans. 

the  public  may  assign  me.'  He  was  put  in  prison,  and  suffered  many  of 
the  indignities  that  such  a  state  would  produce  anywhere.  I  am  not  mak- 
ing reproaches,  but  the  temper  of  a  sworn,  bloody,  and  determined  war 
brings  these  things.  He  looked  it  calmly  in  the  face.  He  viewed  not  in 
trepidation  and  anger,  but  he  marched  as  briskly  to  the  prison  as  he  did 
to  the  grave,  saying, '  I  am  ready  to  stand  trial.'  These  mark  him  to  be  a 
man — every  one  of  these  things.  Neither  chagrined  by  treachery  or  dis- 
heartened, a  great  soul,  he  looked  upon  his  country  with  love ;  his  last 
breath  was  for  her  cause.  He  stands  with  immortality.  It  is  stamped 
upon  the  hearts  of  the  weeping  people  of  Georgia,  upon  his  sorrowing 
countrymen  throughout  the  bounds  of  this  land,  from  the  Atlantic  to  the 
Pacific.  All  looked  with  love  and  admiration,  and  mingled  their  sorrows 
with  the  people  of  Georgia.  Looking  through  his  whole  life — take  any 
part  of  that  glorious  existence  that  you  desire.  He  was  no  despairer  of 
the  Republic  in  the  worst  defeats  and  the  greatest  dangers  ;  and  the  hearts 
of  the  people  are  turned  to  admire  the  man  that  never  despaired  of  the 
Republic  and  of  human  liberty.  He  overturned  principles  to  re-assert, 
with  a  firm  faith,  that  there  is  life  in  the  old  land  yet ;  that  truth  is  im- 
mortal, and  cannot  die.  He  had  faith  and  confidence,  having  devoted  his 
whole  life  to  that  great  cause  of  truth  and  his  country.  He  met  the  great- 
est misfortunes  with  devoted  patriotism.  His  great  heart  rose  with  a  na- 
tion's calamities  and  his  dying  breath  was  his  country's.  Throughout  this 
broad  land  every  heart  is  a  mourner.  People  who  were  formerly  his  op- 
ponents, but  not  his  enemies — he  was  not  an  enemy  of  the  Xorth — not  an 
enemy  of  the  wicked — he  was  not  an  enemy  of  the  bad — his  heart  was 
big  enough  to  cover  every  human  being's  misfortunes  and  sorrows — 
mourn  for  him. 

"  '  Mr.  Stephens,  of  Georgia,'  was  the  only  title  he  ever  claimed.  He  was 
the  child  of  the  State,  the  child  of  the  Republic — yes,  the  child  of  human- 
ity— and  his  was  one  of  the  few  immortal  names  that  were  not  born  to  die." 

The  calm  and  dispassionate  estimate  of  Mr.  Stephens  to 
which  reference  has  been  made  was  written  on  the  day  after 
his  death,  and  is  as  follows : 

"Georgia  has  given  to  the  country  two  men  whose  public  careers, 
sketched  by  the  pen  of  some  modern  Plutarch,  might  be  made  to  illustrate 
each  other  by  striking  contrasts  and  brilliant  antitheses.  One  is  Alexan- 
der H.  Stephens,  whom  the  Empire  State  of  the  South  lately  chose  for  her 
chief  magistrate,  and  whose  death  she  now  deplores.  The  other  is  Robert 
Toombs,  who,  having  survived  the  slaughter  of  the  South's  sacred  '  liber- 
ties,' now  calmly  awaits  the  coming  of  the  day  when  he  shall  'perish  in 
the  last  ditch.'  It  may  not  be  said  of  Mr.  Stephens  that  he  courted  popu- 
lar favor  by  striving  to  be  always  on  the  popular  side,  regardless  of  con- 
viction, yet  after  nearly  half  a  century  of  active  participation  in  politics, 


A  Man  of  the  /South.  467 

during  which  he  has  at  every  critical  point  uniformly  disappointed  both 
his  friends  and  his  enemies,  being  '  everything  by  turns  and  nothing  long,' 
he  passes  away  in  the  very  flower  of  his  fame,  beloved  by  the  people  of  his 
own  State  and  spoken  of  with  respect  and  kindliness  by  the  whole  coun- 
try ;  while  Mr.  Toombs, '  grand,  gloomy,  and  peculiar ' — indeed,  the  most  re- 
markable mixture  of  grandeur  and  absurdity  in  our  history — sulks  solitary 
in  his  tent,  unreconstructed,  irreconcilable,  and  voicing  his  abhorrence  of 
the  Union  in  his  own  style  of  robust  and  picturesque  anathema  quite  as 
freely  as  in  1861.  Mr.  Stephens,  if  we  may  accept  his  own  judgment  on 
his  public  course,  had  too  much  respect  for  the  popular  will  to  set  up  his 
own  opinions  against  it  when  it  was  once  clearly  manifested  to  him.  Mr. 
Toombs  has  too  much  will  of  his  own  to  make  any  account  of  that  of 
the  people.  Candid  and  thoroughly  '  reconstructed '  men  in  the  South  no 
doubt  consider  Mr.  Toombs  a  man  of  mischievous  example  and  evil  influ- 
ence, while  looking  upon  Mr.  Stephens  as  a  safe  guide  and  a  statesman  of 
moderate  and  wholesome  counsel.  The  truth  is  that,  rightly  viewed,  the 
former  is  a  harmless  personage,  while  a  public  man  of  Mr.  Stephens's  in- 
constant mind  is  always  a  source  of  danger,  and  generally  does  much 
harm. 

"  The  facts  and  lessons  of  Governor  Stephens's  life  may  be  dwelt  upon 
for  a  moment  without  any  violation  of  the  rule  which  compels  the  saying 
of  all  the  evil  things  about  a  man  before  he  dies.  His  position  on  the 
question  of  secession,  which  has  been  so  often  discussed,  was  such  as  wo 
can  now  see  the  very  nature  of  the  man  compelled  him  to  take.  There 
was  in  his  mental  constitution  an  unfortunate  balancing  of  forces  which 
forbade  him  to  make  great  leading  principles  his  guides  and  stick  to  them. 
He  was  in  early  life  a  Whig,  and  afterward  a  Democrat.  He  favored  the 
admission  of  Texas  as  a  State,  but  opposed  the  Mexican  war.  He  fought 
with  all  his  strength  for  the  extension  of  slavery  in  the  Territories,  but 
when  the  long  struggle  with  the  slave  power  culminated  in  the  Presiden- 
tial campaign  of  1860  he  was  found  on  neither  side,  but  in  the  middle, 
working  for  the  stale  and  unprofitable  compromise  represented  in  the  can- 
didacy of  Stephen  A.  Douglas.  When  the  tide  of  secession  rose  and  be- 
gan to  sweep  across  the  South  he  battled  against  it,  and  for  a  time  the 
North  looked  hopefully  to  him  as  one  who  might  stay  its  progress.  '  You 
have  a  right  to  withdraw  from  the  Union,'  he  told  the  Georgians,  'for  your 
State  is  a  sovereign  among  sovereigns ;  but  for  Heaven's  sake  don't  do  it 
until  you  have  a  better  reason.  You  must  stand  by  the  Constitution  of 
your  country  until  you  are  driven  to  desert  it.'  This  sounds  like  lofty 
patriotism.  It  passed  for  such,  even  at  the  North.  But  when  secession 
was  an  accomplished  fact,  Mr.  Stephens  did  not  retire  to  his  old  home,  as 
Robert  Toombs  would  have  done,  had  the  ordinance  been  carried  against 
his  vote.  He  immediately  accepted  the  situation,  and  with  it  the  Vice- 
presidency  of  the  Confederate  States  of  America.  His  position  after  the 
war  was  perfectly  consistent  with  his  career  of  inconsistencies.     He  ac- 


468  Twelve  Ainemcans.  , 

quiesced  with  ready  cheerfulness  in  the  final  settlement  of  all  the  ques- 
tions over  which  it  had  been  fought,  but  declared  that  his  '  original  con- 
victions '  had  undergone  no  change.  He  clung  to  the  empty  husk  of  the 
State  rights  idea  after  the  ear  within  had  withered  to  dust.  Last  summer 
the  Georgia  Independents  looked  hopefully  to  Mr.  Stephens  as  their  pos- 
sible candidate  for  Governor.  They  foresaw  that  with  a  leader  of  his 
strength  and  popularity  they  could  startle  the  hosts  of  Bourbonism  in 
their  encampment.  Mr.  Stephens  felt  the  stir  of  independent  aspiration 
in  his  frail  body,  and  allowed  a  friend  to  telegraph  to  the  new  party  in 
Georgia  that  he  would  not  reject  their  nomination.  Then  came  censorious 
mutterings  from  the  Bourbons,  and  Mr.  Stephens,  deciding  that  the  errors 
of  the  party  should  be  corrected  '  within  its  ranks,'  announced  that  he 
could  be  a  candidate  of  the  organized  Democrats  only.  The  indecision  he 
here  revealed  was  entirely  characteristic. 

"  Mr.  Stephens,  in  the  course  of  his  political  career,  seemed  very  often  on 
the  point  of  becoming  great  through  adherence  to  a  great  and  sound  con- 
viction in  the  face  of  overwhelming  opposition,  but  he  always  failed.  He 
stood  many  times  as  a  dike  against  rushing  waters,  but  he  always  gave 
way.  The  strength  of  his  moral  nature  was  just  below  the  safety-point  of 
resistance  to  the  strain  put  upon  it.  He  disappointed  and  vexed  the  seces- 
sionists quite  as  bitterly  as  he  did  the  Unionists,  because  of  his  incapacity 
to  embrace  a  cause  with  his  whole  heart.  Need  it  be  said  that  the  great- 
est misfortunes  of  States  come  upon  them  when  such  men  as  Mr.  Stephens 
are  set  to  guard  against  dangers  from  without  and  within  ?  He  knew  his 
weakness  as  well  as  others,  but  he  called  it  obedience  to  the  will  of  the 
majority.  It  would  be  doing  violence  to  historical  truth  to  assent  to  this 
view  of  the  teachings  of  his  life  and  work." 


VIII. 
A  SIMPLE   FAITH.— THE   END. 

On  a  bright  summer  day  in  1879,  by  the  6ea  at  Long  Branch, 
during  a  long  conversation  which  I  had  with  Mr.  Stephens,  not 
only  in  regard  to  the  principal  incidents  in  his  public  career, 
but  upon  some  of  the  events  of  his  private  life,  he  touched  on 
the  fact  that,  during  all  his  sickness,  his  many  trials,  and  great 
suffering,  he  has  been  sustained  by  a  simple  faith — a  faith 
which  did  not  come  from  church-going,  and  about  which  there 
was  no  cant.  A  knowledge  of  the  precise  nature  of  this  faith, 
or  belief — it  is  difficult  to  find  the  proper  word — gives  a  very 


A  Man  of  the  South.  469 

clear  insight  into  the  motives  which  controlled  many  of  Mr. 
Stephens's  acts.  To  give  such  a  knowledge  I  cannot  do  better 
than  quote  the  following  passage  from  a  letter  written  by  hiin 
to  the  very  near  and  dear  friend  already  referred  to: 

"  I  have  had  much  to  make  me  melancholy.  Indeed,  I  should  have  been 
a  victim  of  melancholy  long  ago,  if  I  had  not  resisted  it  with  all  my  might. 
I  now  feel  as  if  I  had  conquered  in  the  conflict.  It  was  not,  however, 
without  great  danger  from  another  source,  which  I  perceived,  and  had  to 
guard  and  strive  against  with  equal  vigilance  and  energy — that  was  misan- 
thropy. These  have  been  the  Scylla  and  Charybdis  of  my  life.  Melancholy 
and  misanthropy — the  rocks  and  the  whirlpool.  I  have,  I  think,  escaped 
both.  This  I  do  not  think  I  have  accomplished  by  myself.  I  feel  within 
that  I  have  been  sustained  by  an  unseen  Power,  on  whom  I  have  relied, 
and  to  whom  I  have  looked  in  my  worst  trials — often  in  the  darkest  hours 
— with  the  hope  and  assurance  that  all  would  be  well  under  his  guidance 
and  protection.  I  do  not  feel  justified  before  him,  but  I  do  feel  that  with 
his  long-suffering  and  loving-kindness  my  frailties  will  be  graciously  par- 
doned, my  weakness  strengthened,  and  patience  and  fortitude  imparted 
sufficient  to  enable  me  to  bear  all  the  ills  of  this  life,  and  that,  by  discharg- 
ing my  duties  fully  and  to  the  best  of  my  ability  during  this  probationary 
existence,  I  shall  be  fitted  for  that  higher  sphere  hereafter,  where  there 
will  be  no  more  pain  and  no  more  suffering,  no  more  trouble  and  no  more 
sin.  These  are  the  principles  and  convictions  on  which  I  act.  I  have  for 
years  made  it  my  business  to  devote  a  portion  of  each  day  to  prayer — in 
communing  with  this  unseen,  all-pervading  Power — with  God.  I  was  in 
early  life  deeply  impressed  with  what  is  called  religious  feeling ;  but  after 
I  grew  up  and  entered  the  world  these  feelings  greatly  subsided.  I  at  one 
time  became  sceptical — callous.  The  world  was  a  mystery.  I  could  see 
nothing  good  in  it.  I  was  miserable,  and  that  continually.  But,  coming 
to  the  conclusion,  after  a  close  self-examination,  that  the  error  might  be  in 
myself,  I  determined  to  adopt  a  new  line  of  policy  for  my  conduct.  The 
first  resolution  was  to  cease  finding  fault  with,  or  thinking  about,  what  I 
could  not  understand.  The  second  was  to  nurture  and  cultivate  assidu- 
ously the  kindlier  affections  of  the  heart,  and  with  this,  every  day  at  some 
hour  to  put  myself  in  communion  with  God,  to  the  best  of  my  ability,  ask- 
ing him  to  aid,  assist,  direct,  and  protect  me  in  doing  right.  The  effect  of 
this  upon  my  mind  and  feelings,  and  general  views  of  things,  was  soon  felt 
by  me.  The  exercise,  which  had  at  first  seemed  meaningless  and  senseless, 
soon  seemed  to  bring  a  certain  inexplicable  satisfaction  to  the  spirit.  The 
earlier  impressions  of  life  soon  revived.  I  felt  a  better,  a  much  more  con- 
tented and  happier  man.  The  feeling  grew  with  its  culture.  It  softened 
the  temper,  awakened  deeper  emotions  of  reverence,  gratitude,  and  love. 
It  gave  consolation  in  grief,  strength  in  resisting  temptation.    It  impressed 


470  Twelve  Americans. 

the  mind  with  man's  weakness  and  frailties,  and  his  dependence  on  God. 
It  seemed  to  elevate  the  soul  and  put  it  in  communion  with  its  Maker. 
This  is  what  sustains  me.  Such  is  the  character  of  my  religion.  I  make 
no  boast  of  it,  and  perhaps  very  few  people  who  know  me  have  any  idea 
of  its  existence,  even  to  this  extent.  I  have  always  had  such  an  aversion 
to  what  is  considered  the  cant  of  religion,  that  I  have  been  rather  inclined 
to  suppress  than  to  exhibit  to  others  what  I  really  think  and  feel  in  such 
matters." 

During  the  conversation  to  which  reference  is  made  Mr. 
Stephens,  in  substance,  if  not  in  exact  language,  expressed  the 
following  views  in  regard  to  the  Republic  and  its  future :  Ours 
is  a  federal  Republic.  It  has  no  inherent  power.  All  its 
powers  are  delegated — are  limited  and  specific.  Within  the 
sphere  of  these  powers  the  authority  of  the  Federal  Govern- 
ment is  absolute  and  supreme.  These  sovereign  powers  are 
divisible,  and,  under  our  Federal  Constitution,  are  divided 
into  the  legislative,  judicial,  and  executive  departments  of  the 
Government.  Each  of  these  departments  is  co-ordinate,  equal, 
and  independent  of  the  other.  The  powers  exercised  by  the 
legislative  department,  within  its  sphere,  are  as  supreme  as  are 
the  powers  exercised  by  the  judicial  or  executive  departments 
within  their  spheres.  The  legislative  department  is  to  make 
the  laws ;  the  judiciary  to  expound  them  ;  the  executive  is  to 
carry  them  into  effect.  The  powers  of  sovereignty  not  dele- 
gated to  the  Federal  Government  by  the  States  are  expressly 
reserved  to  the  States  themselves  by  the  Constitution  of  the 
United  States.  Hence,  each  State,  respectively,  has  the  per- 
fect and  absolute  right,  within  its  limits,  to  exercise  all  sov- 
ereign powers  which  are  not  delegated  to  the  United  States. 
In  a  word,  and  paradoxical  as  it  may  seem,  ours  is  at  once  one 
of  the  most  simple,  yet  at  the  same  time  the  grandest  and 
most  complex,  system  of  government  recognized  in  the  annals 
of  mankind. 

"  And  how,"  I  asked  Mr.  Stephens,  "  is  this  system  of  gov- 
ernment to  be  perpetuated  ?" 


A  Man  of  the  South.  471 

After  deep  consideration  he  replied — and  again  I  give  his 
ideas,  though  not  his  exact  words :  The  perpetuity  of  the 
Government  of  the  United  States  as  a  union  of  States,  and  the 
continued  prosperity  of  this  people  under  the  operation  of  the 
present  system,  depends  upon  a  strict  adherence,  in  all  the  de- 
partments, Federal  and  State,  to  the  organic  law  of  the  com- 
plex system.  The  dangers  which  threaten  us  arise  almost 
solely  from  a  deviation  from  or  a  violation  of  those  laws. 
There  is  quite  as  much  or  more  danger  from  centralizing  than 
from  centrifugal  forces.  There  is  not  now  and  cannot  be  any 
near  danger  to  this  country  from  secession,  but  there  is  danger 
from  the  growing  inclination  to  centralize  power,  which  may 
in  the  end  lead  to  empire.  There  is  a  limit  to  the  extent  to 
which  any  country  may  go  in  a  system  of  centralized  or  im- 
perial rule.  This  limitation  finds  its  analogy  in  all  organized 
matter — vegetable  and  animal.  Governments  are  but  organ- 
izations, after  all ;  and  as  under  the  physical  laws  of  the  crea- 
tion there  is  a  limit  to  which  the  plant  and  the  vine  may  grow 
in  development,  so  for  similar  reasons  there  is  a  limit  to  which 
empire  can  go,  and  live.  If  either  be  extended  too  far,  the 
extremities  become  too  remote  for  the  vital  forces  of  the  centre 
to  impart  life  and  vigor.  Decay  and  ruin  ensue.  The  tall 
trees  of  the  forests  begin  to  die  at  the  top.  So  with  Rome, 
the  great  republic  of  antiquity.  She  fell  from  the  weight  of 
empire — fell  because  she  lacked  proper  vital  functions  at  the 
centre,  vital  functions  sufficient  to  preserve  life  in  her  too  far 
extended  branches.  Had  Home,  in  extending  her  territory, 
adopted  a  federative  system,  upon  which  the  existence  of  the 
United  States  depends,  instead  of  one  of  imperial  centralization, 
her  jurisdiction  might  have  extended  over  unbounded  limits, 
and  her  government  have  been  perpetuated  to  this  day.  So, 
under  our  system,  with  perfect  local  self-government  conceded 
to  the  separate  States,  the  community  of  States  will  soon  be- 
come, in  fact,  an  ocean-bound  and  rock-founded  Republic. 


47 2  Twelve  Americans. 

Besides  the  dangers  growing  out  of  a  violation  of  the  laws 
of  the  Government  of  the  Union  and  of  the  various  States, 
other  dangers  of  a  more  strictly  internal  character  will,  of 
course,  spring  up.  Indeed,  they  are  already  fast  appearing, 
and  exhibit  most  dangerous  tendencies — tendencies  to  guard 
against  which  statesmanship,  energy,  and  patriotism  of  the 
highest  order  are  required.  The  internal  dangers  referred  to 
arise  mainly  from  the  relations  between  capital  and  labor.  In 
nature,  or  in  true  political  science,  there  should  be  no  conflict 
between  these  two.  They  are  respectively  advantageous  to 
each  other.  But  they  are  for  the  moment  improperly  ad- 
justed and  threaten  grave  troubles.  From  them  spring  main- 
ly the  financial  and  taxation  questions  which  now  agitate  the 
people,  and  upon  their  speedy  adjustment,  as  well  as  upon  the 
observance  of  the  laws,  must  depend  the  prosperity  and  perpe- 
tuity of  the  Republic.  To  the  adjustment  of  such  questions 
it  is  the  duty  of  all  branches  of  the  Government  to  give  the 
deepest  thought  and  most  speedy  consideration. 

"Liberty  Hall,"  in  the  remote  and  quiet  hamlet  of  Craw- 
fordsville,  Georgia,  was  the  home  of  Alexander  H.  Stephens,  and 
to  a  certain  extent  may  serve  as  his  monument.  The  house — 
situated  not  far  from  the  site  of  the  rude  structure  in  which 
he  was  born— is  well-built  of  heavy  hard-wood.  It  is  two  sto- 
ries high,  painted  white,  low-roofed,  and  unpretending.  Still, 
it  is  a  comfortable  and  commodious  dwelling-place,  and  was 
well  suited  to  the  simple  yet  generous  tastes  of  its  master. 
Wide -spreading  trees  protect  it  from  the  fiery  heat  of  the 
Southern  sun,  and  a  well-kept  lawn  stretches  away  invitingly 
from  the  broad,  cool  piazza  which,  during  a  part  of  the  year, 
was  the  favorite  resort  of  its  chief  inmate. 

The  house  was  well  called  "  Liberty  Hall,"  for  in  it  every 
one  was  allowed  the  utmost  freedom  of  action.  It  is  literally 
true  that  during  the  life  of  Mr.  Stephens  its  doors  were  always 
open  to  visitors — strangers,  wayfarers,  distinguished  guests,  and 


A  Man  of  the  South.  473 

intimate  friends  alike  receiving  the  most  cordial  welcome  and 
a  generous  portion  of  whatever  fare  the  place  afforded.  In 
this  house,  accessible  to  every  man,  high  or  low — as  he  was  at 
all  times  and  in  every  position — surrounded  by  books  and  pa- 
pers, and  cared  for  by  a  number  of  negro  servants,  among  them 
his  old  slaves,  "  major-domo  Harry  Stephens,"  his  wife  Eliza, 
and  Alexander  Kent,  who,  with  the  rare  fidelity  of  their  race, 
ever  clang  closely  to  their  kind  old  master,  the  great  Georgian 
spent  the  time  which  he  could  spare  from  his  public  duties. 

Alexander  H.  Stephens  may  have  had  faults,  he  may  have 
made  grave  mistakes,  he  may  have  been  purblind  as  a  politi- 
cian, and  vacillating  as  a  public  man :  to  others  must  be  left 
the  task  of  seeking  for  his  shortcomings  and  commenting 
upon  his  weaknesses.  In  this  place  it  can  only  be  said  that 
no  man  who  knew  him  well  disliked  him.  By  his  intimate 
friends,  by  all  those  who  were  permitted  to  enjoy  the  educa- 
tion of  his  familiar  discourse,  those  who  best  knew  the  power 
of  his  mind,  the  gentleness  of  his  nature,  the  warmth  of  his 
great,  true,  faithful  heart,  by  those  who  felt  the  fascination  of 
his  deep,  dark,  mournful  eyes  and  the  magnetic  touch  of  his 
poor  weak,  shattered  hand,  Alexander  H.  Stephens  was  re- 
spected, esteemed,  loved.  He  was  a  benefactor  to  many.  Ho 
willingly  did  harm  to  none.  Deep  in  the  hearts  of  thou- 
sands, high  and  low,  black  and  white,  men  and  women,  his 
memory  will  long  be  kept  green.  Despite  his  mistakes,  de- 
spite his  faults,  despite  his  shortcomings,  "  take  him  for  all  in 
all,  we  shall  not  look  upon  his  like  again?"1 


VALUABLE  AND  INTERESTING  WORKS 

FOR 

PUBLIC  &  PRIVATE  LIBRARIES, 

Published  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  New  York. 


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MACAULAY'S  ENGLAND.  The  History  of  England  from  the 
Accession  of  James  II.     By  Thomas  Babington  Macaulay. 

New  Edition,  from  new  Electrotype  Plates.  8vo,  Cloth,  with 
Paper  Labels,  Uncut  Edges  and  Gilt  Tops,  5  vols,  in  a  Box, 
$10  00  per  set.  Sold  only  in  Sets.  Cheap  Edition,  5  vols,  in 
a  Box,  12mo,  Cloth,  $2  50  ;  Sheep,  $3  75. 

MACAULAY'S  MISCELLANEOUS  WORKS.  The  Miscel- 
laneous Works  of  Lord  Macaulay.  From  New  Electrotype 
Plates.  In  Five  Volumes.  8vo,  Cloth,  with  Paper  Labels,  Un- 
cut Edges  and  Gilt  Tops,  in  a  Box,  $10  00.     Sold  only  in  Sets. 

HUME'S  ENGLAND.  The  History  of  England,  from  the  Inva- 
sion of  Julius  Caesar  to  the  Abdication  of  James  II.,  1688.  By 
David  Hume.  New  and  Elegant  Library  Edition,  from  new 
Electrotype  Plates.  G  vols,  in  a  Box,  8vo,  Cloth,  with  Paper 
Labels,  Uncut  Edges  and  Gilt  Tops,  $12  00.  Sold  only  in  Sets. 
Popular  Edition,  6  vols,  in  a  Box,  12mo,  Cloth,  $3  00  ;  Sheep, 
$4  50. 

GIBBON'S  ROME.  The  History  of  the  Decline  and  Fall  of  the 
Roman  Empire.  By  Edward  Gibbon.  With  Notes  by  Dean 
Milman,  M.  Gdizot,  and  Dr.  William  Smith.  New  Edition, 
from  new  Electrotype  Plates.  G  vols.,  8vo,  Cloth,  with  Paper 
Labels,  Uncut  Edges  and  Gilt  Tops,  $12  00.  Sold  only  in  Sets. 
Popular  Edition,  6  vols,  in  a  Box,  12mo,  Cloth,  $3  00;  Sheep, 
$4  50. 

GEDDES'S  JOHN  DE  WITT.  History  of  the  Administration 
of  John  De  Witt,  Grand  Pensionary  of  Holland.  By  James 
Geddes.  Vol.  I.— 1G23-165L  With  a  Portrait.  8vo,  Cloth, 
$2  50. 


2  Valuable  Works  for  Public  and  Private  Libraries. 

HILDEETH'S  UNITED  STATES.  History  of  the  United  States. 
First  Series  :  From  the  Discovery  of  the  Continent  to  the 
Organization  of  the  Government  under  the  Federal  Constitu- 
tion. Second  Series  :  From  the  Adoption  of  the  Federal 
Constitution  to  the  End  of  the  Sixteenth  Congress.  By  Rich- 
ard Hildreth.  Popular  Edition,  6  vols,  in  a  Box,  8vo,  Cloth, 
with  Paper  Labels,  Uncut  Edges  and  Gilt  Tops,  $  12  00.  Sold 
only  in  Sets. 

MOTLEY'S  DUTCH  REPUBLIC.  The  Rise  of  the  Dutch 
Republic.  A  History.  By  John  Lothrop  Motley,  LL.D., 
D.C.L.  With  a  Portrait  of  William  of  Orange.  Cheap  Edi- 
tion, 3  vols,  in  a  Box,  8vo,  Cloth,  with  Paper  Labels,  Uncut 
Edges  and  Gilt  Tops,  $6  00.  Sold  only  in  Sets.  Original 
Library  Edition,  3  vols.,  8vo,  Cloth,  $10  50;  Sheep,  $12  00; 
Half  Calf,  $17  25. 

MOTLEY'S  UNITED  NETHERLANDS.  History  of  the  Unit- 
ed Netherlands :  from  the  Death  of  William  the  Silent  to  the 
Twelve  Years'  Truce— 1584-1609.  With  a  full  View  of  the 
English-Dutch  Struggle  against  Spain,  and  of  the  Origin  and 
Destruction  of  the  Spanish  Armada.  By  John  Lothrop  Mot- 
ley, LL.D.,  D.C.L.  Portraits.  Cheap  Edition,  4  vols,  in  a 
Box,  8vo,  Cloth,  with  Paper  Labels,  Uncut  Edges  and  Gilt 
Tops,  $8  00.  Sold  only  in  Sets.  Original  Library  Edition, 
4  volumes,  8vo,  Cloth,  $14  00;  Sheep,  $16  00;  Half  Calf, 
$23  00. 

MOTLEY'S  JOHN  OF  BARNEVELD.  The  Life  and  Death 
of  John  of  Barneveld,  Advocate  of  Holland:  with  a  View  of 
the  Primary  Causes  and  Movements  of  "The  Thirty  Years' 
War."  By  John  Lothrop  Motley,  LL.D.,  D.C.L.  Illustrat- 
ed. Cheap  Edition,  2  vols,  in  a  Box,  8vo,  Cloth,  with  Paper 
Labels,  Uncut  Edges  and  Gilt  Tops,  $4  00.  Sold  only  in  Sets. 
Original  Library  Edition,  2  vols.,  8vo,  Cloth,  $7  00;  Sheep, 
$8  00;  Half  Calf,  $11  50. 

GOLDSMITH'S  WORKS.  The  Works  of  Oliver  Goldsmith. 
Edited  by  Peter  Cunningham,  F.S.A.  From  new  Electro- 
type Plates.  4  vols.,  8vo,  Cloth,  Paper  Labels,  Uncut  Edges 
and  Gilt  Tops,  $8  00.  Uniform  with  the  New  Library  Editions 
of  Macaulay,  Hume,  Gibbon,  Motley,  and  Hildreth. 

HUDSON  S  HISTORY  OF  JOURNALISM.  Journalism  in  the 
United  States,  from  1690  to  1872.  By  Frederic  Hudson. 
8vo,  Cloth,  $5  00  ;  Half  Calf,  $7  25. 


Valuable  Works  for  Public  and  Private  Libraries.  3 

SYMONDS'S  SKETCHES  AND  STUDIES  IN  SOUTHERN 
EUROPE.  By  John  Addington  Symonds.  In  Two  Vol- 
umes.    Post  8vo,  Cloth,  $4  00. 

SYMONDS'S  GREEK  POETS.  Studies  of  the  Greek  Poets. 
By  John  Addington  Symonds.  2  vols.,  Square  16mo,  Cloth, 
$3  50. 

TREVELYAN'S  LIFE  OF  MACAULAY.  The  Life  and  Let- 
ters of  Lord  Macaulay.  By  his  Nephew,  G.  Otto  Tkevelyan, 
M.P.  With  Portrait  on  Steel.  Complete  in  2  vols.,  8vo, 
Cloth,  Uncut  Edges  and  Gilt  Tops,  $5  00;  Sheep,  $6  00; 
Half  Calf,  $9  50.  Popular  Edition,  two  vols,  in  one,  12mo, 
Cloth,  $1  75. 

TREVELYAN'S  LIFE  OF  FOX.  The  Early  History  of  Charles 
James  Fox.  By  George  Otto  Trevelyan.  8vo,  Cloth,  Un- 
cut Edges  and  Gilt  Tops,  $2  50 ;  4to,  Paper,  20  cents. 

MULLER'S  POLITICAL  HISTORY  OF  RECENT  TIMES. 
Political  History  of  Recent  Times  (L816-1875).  With  Special 
Reference  to  Germany.  By  William  Muller.  Revised  and 
Enlarged  by  the  Author.  Translated,  with  an  Appendix  cov- 
ering the  Period  from  1876  to  1881,  by  the  Rev.  John  P.  Pe- 
ters, Ph.D.      12mo,  Cloth,  $3  00. 

LOSSING'S  CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  UNITED  STATES  HIS- 
TORY. Popular  Cyclopaedia  of  United  States  History.  From 
the  Aboriginal  Period  to  1876.  By  B.  J.  Lossing,  LL.D.  Il- 
lustrated by  2  Steel  Portraits  and  over  1000  Engravings.  2 
vols.,  Royal  8vo,  Cloth,  $12  00.      (Sold  by  Subscription  only.) 

LOSSING'S  FIELD-BOOK  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.  Picto- 
rial Field-Book  of  the  Revolution  ;  or,  Illustrations  by  Pen  and 
Pencil  of  the  History,  Biography,  Scenery,  Relics,  and  Traditions 
of  the  War  for  Independence.  By  Benson  J.  Lossing.  2  vols., 
8vo,  Cloth,  $14  00 ;  Sheep  or  Roan,  $15  00 ;  Half  Calf,  $18  00. 

LOSSING'S  FIELD-BOOK  OF  THE  WAR  OF  1812.  Pictorial 
Field-Book  of  the  War  of  1812;  or,  Illustrations  by  Pen  and 
Pencil  of  the  History,  Biography,  Scenery,  Relics,  and  Tradi- 
tions of  the  last  War  for  American  Independence.  By  Benson 
J.  Lossing.  With  several  hundred  Engravings  on  Wood  by 
Lossing  and  Barritt,  chiefly  from  Original  Sketches  by  the  Au- 
thor. 1088  pages,  8vo,  Cloth,  $7  00;  Sheep,  $8  50;  Roan, 
$9  00;  Half  Calf,  $10  00. 


4  Valuable  Works  for  Public  and  Private  Libraries. 

BARTON'S  CARICATURE.  Caricature  and  Other  Comic  Art, 
in  All  Times  and  Many  Lands.  By  James  Parton.  203  Illus- 
trations. Svo,  Cloth,  Uncut  Edges  and  Gilt  Tops,  $5  00  ;  Half 
Calf,  $7  25. 

MAHAFFY'S  GREEK  LITERATURE.  A  History  of  Classical 
Greek  Literature.  By  J.  P.  Mahaffy.  2  vols.,  12mo,  Cloth, 
$4  00 ;    Half  Calf,  $7  50. 

DU  CHAILLU'S  LAND  OF  THE  MIDNIGHT  SUN.  Sum- 
mer and  Winter  Journeys  in  Sweden,  Norway,  and  Lapland, 
and  Northern  Finland.  By  Paul  B.  Dc  Chaillu.  Illus- 
trated.    2  vols.,  Svo,  Cloth,  $7  50. 

DU  CHAILLU'S  EQUATORIAL  AFRICA.  Explorations  and 
Adventures  in  Equatorial  Africa:  with  Accounts  of  the  Man- 
ners and  Customs  of  the  People,  and  of  the  Chase  of  the 
Gorilla,  Crocodile,  Leopard,  Elephant,  Hippopotamus,  and  other 
Animals.  By  P.  B.  Du  Chaillu.  Illustrated.  Svo,  Cloth, 
$5  00  ;  Sheep,  $5  50 ;  Half  Calf,  $7  25. 

DU  CHAILLU'S  ASHANGO  LAND.  A  Journey  to  Ashango 
Land,  and  Further  Penetration  into  Equatorial  Africa.  By  P.  B. 
Du  Chaillu.  Illustrated.  8vo,  Cloth,  $5  00  ;  Sheep,  $5  50  ; 
Half  Calf,  $7  25. 

DEXTER'S  CONGREGATIONALISM.  The  Congregationalism 
of  the  Last  Three  Hundred  Years,  as  Seen  in  its  Literature : 
with  Special  Reference  to  certain  Recondite,  Neglected,  or  Dis- 
puted Passages.  With  a  Bibliographical  Appendix.  By  H.  M. 
Dexter.     Large  Svo,  Cloth,  $6  00. 

STANLEY'S  THROUGH  THE  DARK  CONTINENT.  Through 
the  Dark  Continent;  or,  The  Sources  of  the  Nile,  Around  the 
Great  Lakes  of  Equatorial  Africa,  and  Down  the  Livingstone 
River  to  the  Atlantic  Ocean.  149  Illustrations  and  10  Maps. 
By  H.  M.  Stanley.  2  vols.,  8vo,  Cloth,  $10  00;  Sheep, 
$12  00;  Half  Morocco,  $15  00. 

BARTLETT'S  FROM  EGYPT  TO  PALESTINE.  From  Egypt 
to  Palestine  :  Through  Sinai,  the  Wilderness,  and  the  South 
Country.  Observations  of  a  Journey  made  with  Special  Refer- 
ence to  the  History  of  the  Israelites.  By  S.  C.  Bartlett,  D.D., 
LL.D.     With  Maps  and  Illustrations.     8vo,  Cloth,  $3  50. 


Valuable  Works  for  Public  and  Private  Libraries.  5 

FORSTER'S  LIFE  OF  DEAN  SWIFT.  The  Early  Life  of  Jon- 
athan Swift  (1667-1711).  By  John  Forster.  With  Portrait. 
8vo,  Cloth,  Uncut  Edges  and  Gilt  Tops,  $2  50. 

GREEN'S  ENGLISH  PEOPLE.  History  of  the  English  People. 
By  John  Richard  Green,  M.A.  Four  Volumes.  8vo,  Cloth, 
$2  50  per  volume. 

GREEN'S  MAKING  OF  ENGLAND.  The  Making  of  England. 
By  J.  R.  Green,  LL.D.     8vo,  Cloth,  $2  50. 

SHORT'S    NORTH    AMERICANS   OF    ANTIQUITY.      The 

North  Americans  of  Antiquity.  Their  Origin,  Migrations,  and 
Type  of  Civilization  Considered.  By  John  T.  Short.  Illus- 
trated.    8vo,  Cloth,  $3  00. 

SQUIER'S  PERU.  Peru  :  Incidents  of  Travel  and  Explora- 
tion in  the  Land  of  the  Incas.  By  E.  George  Sqcier,  M.A., 
F.S.A.,  late  U.  S.  Commissioner  to  Peru.  With  Illustrations. 
8vo,  Cloth,  $5  00. 

BENJAMIN'S  CONTEMPORARY  ART.  Contemporary  Art 
in  Europe.  By  S.  G.  W.  Benjamin.  Illustrated.  8vo,  Cloth, 
$3  50. 

BENJAMIN'S  ART  IN  AMERICA.  Art  in  America.  By 
S.  G.  W.  Benjamin.     Illustrated.     8vo,  Cloth,  $-1  00. 

REBER'S  HISTORY  OF  ANCIENT  ART.  History  of  An- 
cient Art.  By  Dr.  Franz  von  Reber.  Revised  by  the  Au- 
thor. Translated  and  Augmented  by  Joseph  Thacher  Clarke. 
With  310  Illustrations  and  a  Glossary  of  Technical  Terms. 
8vo,  Cloth,  $3  50. 

ADAMS'S  MANUAL  OF  HISTORICAL  LITERATURE.     A 

Manual  of  Historical  Literature.  Comprising  Brief  Descrip- 
tions of  the  Most  Important  Histories  in  English,  French,  and 
German.     By  Professor  C.  K.  Adams.     8vo,  Cloth,  $2  50. 

KINGLAKE'S  CRIMEAN  WAR.  The  Invasion  of  the  Crimea  : 
its  Origin,  and  an  Account  of  its  Progress  down  to  the  Death 
of  Lord  Raglan.  By  Alexander  William  Kinglake.  With 
Maps  and  Plans.  Four  Volumes  now  ready.  12mo,  Cloth, 
$2  00  per  vol. 

MAURY'S  PHYSICAL  GEOGRAPHY  OF  THE  SEA.  The 
Physical  Geography  of  the  Sea,  and  its  Meteorology.  By 
M.  F.  Maury,  LL.D.     8vo,  Cloth,  $4  00. 


G  Valuable  Works  for  Public  and  Private  Libraries. 

ENGLISH  MEN  OF  LETTERS.  Edited  by  John  Morlet. 
The  following  volumes  are  now  ready.     Others  will  follow  : 

Johnson.  By  L.  Stephen. — Gibbon.  By  J.  C.  Morison. — 
Scott.  By  R.  H.  Hutton. — Shelley.  By  J.  A.  Symonds. — 
Goldsmith.  By  W.  Black. — Hume.  By  Professor  Huxley. 
— Defoe.  By  W.  Minto. — Burns.  By  Principal  Shairp. — 
Spenser.  By  R.  \V.  Church.  —  Thackeray.  By  A.  Trol- 
lope. —  Burke.  By  J.  Morley. — Milton.  By  M.  Pattison. — 
Southey.  By  E.  Dowden. — Chaucer.  By  A.W.Ward. — 
Bunyan.  By  J.  A.  Froude. — Cowper.  By  G.  Smith. — Pope. 
By  L.Stephen.  —  Byron.  By  J.Nichols. — Locke.  By  T. 
Fowler. — Wordsworth.  By  F.  W.  H.  Myers. — Hawthorne. 
By  Henry  James,  Jr. — Dryden.  By  G.  Saintsbury. — Landor. 
By  S.  Colvin. — De  Quincey.  By  D.  Masson. — Lamb.  By  A. 
Ainger. — Bentley.  By  R.  C.  Jebb. — Dickens.  By  A.  W. 
Ward. — Gray.  By  E.  W.  Gosse. — Swift.  By  L.  Stephen. — 
Sterne.  By  H.D.Traill. — Macaulay.  By  J.  C.  Morison. 
12mo,  Cloth,  75  cents  per  volume. 

HALLAM'S  LITERATURE.  Introduction  to  the  Literature  of 
Europe  during  the  Fifteenth,  Sixteenth,  and  Seventeenth  Centu- 
ries. By  Henry  Hallam.  2  vols.,  8vo,  Cloth,  $4  00;  Sheep, 
$ 5  00. 

HALLAM'S  MIDDLE  AGES.  View  of  the  State  of  Europe 
during  the  Middle  Ages.  By  H.  Hallam.  8vo,  Cloth,  $2  00  ; 
Sheep,  $2  50. 

HALLAM'S  CONSTITUTIONAL  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

The  Constitutional  History  of  England,  from  the  Accession  of 
Henry  VII.  to  the  Death  of  George  II.     By  Henry  Hallam. 

8vo,  Cloth,  $2  00 ;  Sheep,  $2  50. 

NEWCOMB'S  ASTRONOMY.  Popular  Astronomy.  By  Simon 
Newcomb,  LL.D.  Witli  One  Hundred  and  Twelve  Engrav- 
ings, and  five  Maps  of  the  Stars.  8vo,  Cloth,  $2  50:  School 
Edition,  12mo,  Cloth,  $1  30. 

PRIME'S  POTTERY  AND  PORCELAIN.  Pottery  and  Porce- 
lain of  All  Times  and  Nations.  With  Tables  of  Factory  and 
Artists'  Marks,  for  the  Use  of  Collectors.  By  William  C. 
Prime,  LL.D.  Illustrated.  8vo,  Cloth,  Uncut  Edges  and  Gilt 
Tops,  $7  00;  Half  Calf,  $9  25.     (In  a  Box.) 


